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yAJVE AUSTEN 


PERSUASION 




PERSUASION. 


CHAPTER I. 

[R WALTER ELLIOT of Kellynch Hall, 
in Somersetshire, was a man who for 
his own amusement never took up any 
book but the Baronetage : there he 
found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation 
in a distressed one j there his faculties were roused 
into admiration and respect, by contemplating 
the limited remnant of the earliest patents; there 
any unwelcome sensations, arising from, domestic 
affairs, changed naturally into pitj^ and contempt, 
as he turned over the almost endless creations of 
the last century; and there, if every other leaf 
were powerless, he could read his own history with 
an interest which never failed. This was the page 
at which the favorite volume always opened: — 

ELLIOT OF KELLYNCH HALL. 

^‘Walter Elliot, born March 1, 1760, married, 
July 15, 1784, Elizabeth, daughter of James Ste- 
venson, Esq. of South Bark, in the county of 



6 


PERSUASION. 


Gloucester; by which lady (who died 1800) he has 
issue, Elizabeth, born June 1, 1785; Anne, born 
August 9, 1787; a still-born son, November 5, 
1789; Mary, born November 20, 1791.’^ 

Precisely such had the paragraph originally 
stood from the printer’s hands; but Sir Walter 
had improved it by adding, for the information of 
himself and his family, these words, after the date 
of Mary’s birth, — ‘‘ Married, December 16, 1810, 
Charles, son and heir of Charles Musgrove, Esq. 
of Uppercross, in the county of Somerset,” and by 
inserting most accuratel}’’ the day of the month on 
which he had lost his wife. 

Then followed the history and rise of the ancient 
and respectable family, in the usual terms, — how 
it had been first settled in Cheshire; how men- 
tioned in Dugdale, serving the office of high 
sheriff, representing a borough in three successive 
parliaments, exertions of loyalty, and dignity of 
baronet, in the first year of Charles II., with all 
the Marys and Elizabeths they had married; form- 
ing altogether two handsome duodecimo pages, and 
concluding with the arms and motto, — ^^Princi- 
pal seat, Kellynch Hall, in the county of Somer- 
set,” and Sir Walter’s handwriting again in this 
finale, — 

“Heir presumptive, William Walter Elliot, 
Esq., great-grandson of the second Sir Walter.” 

Vanity was the beginning and the end of Sir Wal- 
ter Elliot’s character, — vanity of person and of 
situation. He had been remarkably handsome in 
his youth, and at fifty-four was still a very fine man. 


PERSUASION. 


7 


Few women could think more of their personal 
appearance than he did; nor could the valet of any 
new-made lord he more delighted with the place he 
held in society. He considered the blessing of 
beauty as inferior only to the blessing of a bar- 
onetcy; and the Sir Walter Elliot who united these 
gifts was the constant object of his warmest re- 
spect and devotion. 

His good looks and his rank had one fair claim 
031 his attachment, since to them he must have 
owed a wife of very superior character to any- 
thing deserved by his own. Lady Elliot had been 
an excellent woman, sensible and amiable, whose 
judgment and conduct, if they might be pardoned 
the youthful infatuation which made her Lady 
Elliot, had never required indulgence afterwards. 
She had humored or softened or concealed his 
failings, and promoted his real respectability for 
seventeen years ; and though not the very happiest 
being in the world herself, had found enough in 
her duties, her friends, and her children to attach 
her to life, and make it no matter of indifference 
to her when she was called on to quit them. 
Three girls, the two eldest sixteen and fourteen, 
was an awful legacy for a mother to bequeath; an 
awful charge rather to confide to the autliority and 
guidance of a conceited, silly father. She had, 
however, one very intimate friend, a sensible, de- 
serving woman, who had been brought, by strong 
attachment to herself, to settle close by her, in the 
village of Kellynch; and on her kindness and 
advice Lady Elliot mainly relied for the best help 
and maintenance of the good principles and in- 


8 


PERSUASION. 


slruction which she had been anxiously giving her 
daughters. 

This friend and Sir Walter did not marry, 
whatever might have been anticipated on that head 
by their acquaintance. Thirteen years had passed 
away since Lady Elliot’s death, and they were still 
near neighbors and intimate friends; and one re* 
mained a widower, the other a widow. 

That Lady Russell, of stead}’’ age and chara>cter, 
and extremely well provided for, should have no 
thought of a second marriage, needs no apology to 
the public, which is rather apt to be unreasonably 
discontented when a woman does marry again, than 
when she does not; but Sir Walter’s continuing in 
singleness requires explanation. Be it known, 
then, that Sir Walter, like a good father, having 
met with one or two private disappointments in 
very unreasonable applications, prided himself on 
remaining single for his dear daughter’s sake. 
Eor one daughter, his eldest, he would really have 
given up anything which he had not been very 
much tempted to do. Elizabeth had succeeded, at 
sixteen, to all that was possible of her mother’s 
rights and consequence ; and being very handsome 
and very like himself, her influence had always 
been great, and they had gone on together most 
happily. His two other children were of very in- 
ferior value. Mary had acquired a little artificial 
importance, by becoming Mrs. Charles Musgrove; 
but Anne, with an elegance of mind and sweetness 
of character which must have placed her high with 
any people of real understanding, was nobody with 
either father or sister; her word had no weight; 


PERSUASION. 


9 


her convenience was always to give way; she was 
only Anne. 

To Lady Russell, indeed, she was a most dear 
and highly valued god-daughter, favorite, and 
friend. Lady Russell loved them all; but it was 
only in Anne that she could fancy the mother to 
revive again. 

A few years before, Anne Elliot had been a very 
pretty girl, but her bloom had vanished early; and 
as, even in its height, her father had found little 
to admire in her, so totally different were her deli- 
cate features and mild dark eyes from his own, 
there could be nothing in them, now that she was 
faded and thin, to excite his esteem. He had 
never indulged much hope, he had now none, of 
ever reading her name in any other page of his 
favorite work. All equality of alliance must rest 
with Elizabeth; for Mary had merely connected 
herself with an old country family of respectability 
and large fortune, and had therefore given all 
the honor, and received none. Elizabeth would, 
one day or other, marry suitably. 

It sometimes happens that a woman is hand- 
somer at twenty-nine than she was ten years be- 
fore; and, generally speaking, if there has been 
neither ill-health nor anxiety, it is a time of life 
at which scarcely any charm is lost. It was so 
with Elizabeth, — still the same handsome Miss 
Elliot that she had begun to be thirteen years ago; 
and Sir Walter might be excused, therefore, in 
forgetting her age, or, at least, be deemed only 
half a fool, for thinking himself and Elizabeth as 
blooming as ever, amidst the wreck of the good 


10 


PERSUASION. 


looks of everybody else; for he could plainly see 
how old all the rest of his family and acquaintance 
were growing. Anne haggard, Mary coarse, every 
face in the neighborhood worsting; and the rapid 
increase of the crow’s foot about Lady Russell’s 
temples had long been a distress to him. 

Elizabeth did not quite equal her father in per- 
sonal contentment. Thirteen years had seen her 
mistress of Kellynch Hall, presiding and directing 
with a self-possession and decision which could 
never have given the idea of her being younger 
than she was. Eor thirteen years had she been 
doing the honors, and laying down the domestic 
law at home, and leading the way to the chaise and 
four, and walking immediately after Lady Russell 
out of all the drawing-rooms and dining-rooms in 
the country. Thirteen winters’ revolving frosts 
had seen her opening every ball of credit which a 
scanty neighborhood afforded; and thirteen springs 
shown their blossoms, as she travelled up to 
London with her father, for a few weeks’ annual 
enjoyment of the great world. She had the re- 
membrance of all this; she had the consciousness 
of being nine-and-twenty, to give her some regrets 
and some apprehensions; she was fully satisfied of 
being still quite as handsome as ever; but she felt 
her approach to the years of danger, and would 
have rejoiced to be certain of being properly soli- 
cited by baronet-blood within the next twelve- 
month or two. Then might she again take up the 
book of books with as much enjoyment as in her 
early youth ; but now she liked it not. Always to 
be presented with the date of her own birth, and 


PERSUASION. 


11 


see no marriage follow but that of a youngest sis- 
ter, made the book an evil; and more than once, 
when her father had left it open on the table near 
her, had she closed it, with averted eyes, and 
pushed it away. 

She had had a disappointment, moreover, which 
that book, and especially the history of her own 
family, must ever present the remembrance of. 
The heir presumptive, the very William Walter 
Elliot, Esq., whose rights had been so generously 
supported by her father, had disappointed her. 

She had, while a very young girl, as soon as she 
had known him to be, in the event of her having no 
brother, the future baronet, meant to marry him ; 
and her father had always meant that she should. 
He had not been known to them as a boy, but soon 
after Lady Elliot’s death. Sir AValter had sought 
the acquaintance; and though his overtures had 
not been met with any warmth, he had persevered 
in seeking it, making allowance for the modest 
drawing back of youth; and in one of their spring 
excursions to London, when Elizabeth was in her 
first bloom, Mr. Elliot had been forced into the 
introduction. 

He was at that time a very young man, just 
engaged in the study of the law; and Elizabeth 
found him extremely agreeable, and every plan in 
his favor was confirmed. He was invited to Kel- 
lynch Hall ; he was talked of and expected all the 
rest of the year; but he never came. The follow- 
ing spring he was seen again in town, found equally 
agreeable, again encouraged, invited, and expected, 
and again he did not come; and the next tidings 


12 


PERSUASION. 


were that he was married. Instead I pushing his 
fortune in the line marked out for the heir of the 
house of Elliot, he had purchased independence 
by uniting himself to a rich woman of inferior 
birth. 

Sir Walter had resented it. As the head of the 
house he felt that he ought to have been consulted, 
especially after taking the young man so publicly 
by the hand, — ‘^For they must have been seen 
together,’^ he observed, once at Tattersal’s and 
twice in the lobby of the House of Commons.’’ 
His disapprobation was expressed, but apparently 
very little regarded. Mr. Elliot had attempted 
no apology, and shown himself as unsolicitous of 
being longer noticed by the family, as^ Sir Walter 
considered him unworthy of it; all acquaintance 
between them had ceased. 

This very awkward history of Mr. Elliot was 
still, after an interval of several years, felt with 
anger by Elizabeth, who had liked the man for him- 
self, and still more for being her father’s heir, and 
whose strong family pride could see only in him 
a proper match for Sir Walt'jr Elliot’s eldest daugh- 
ter. There was not a baronet from A to Z whom 
her feelings could have so willingly acknowledged 
as an equal. Aet so misera^^ly had 1x3 conducted 
himself, that though she was at this present time 
(the summer of 1814) wearing black ribands for his 
wife, she could not admit him to be worth thinking 
of again. The disgrace of his first marriage might 
perhaps, as there was no reason to suppose it 
perpetuated by offspring, have been got over, had 
he not done worse ; but he had, as by the accusto- 


PERSUASION. 


13 


mary intervention of kind friends they had been 
informed, spoken most disrespectfully of them all, 
— most slightingly and contemptuously of the very 
blood he belonged to, and the honors which were 
hereafter to be his own. This could not he 
pardoned. 

Such were Elizabeth Elliotts sentiments and 
sensations; such the cares to alloy, the agitations 
to vary, the sameness and the elegance, the pros- 
perity and the nothingness, of her scene of life; 
such the feelings to give interest to a long, un- 
eventful residence in one country circle, to fill 
the vacancies which there were no habits of utility 
abroad, no talents or accomplishments for home, to 
occupy. 

But now another occupation and solicitude of 
mind was beginning to be added to these. Her 
father was growing distressed for money. She 
knew that when he now took up the Baronetage, it 
was to drive the heavy bills of his tradespeople, 
and the unwelcome hints of Mr. Shepherd, his 
agent, from his thoughts. The Kellynch property 
was good, but not equal to Sir Walter’s apprehen- 
sion of the state required in its possessor. While 
Lady Elliot lived, there had been method, modera- 
tion, and economy, which had just kept him within 
his income; but with her had died all such right- 
mindedness, and from that period he had been 
constantly exceeding it. It had not been possible 
for him to spend less. He had done nothing but 
what Sir Walter Elliot was imperiously called on 
to do ; but blameless as he was, he was not only 
growing dreadfully in debt, but was hearing of it 


14 


PERSUASION. 


so often that it became vain to attempt concealing 
it longer, even partially, from his daughter. He 
had given her some hints of it the last spring in 
town; he had gone so far even as to say, Can we 
retrench ? does it occur to you that there is any one 
article in which we can retrench ? and Elizabeth, 
to do her justice, had, in the first ardor of female 
alarm, set seriously to think what could he done, 
and had finally proposed these two branches of 
economy, — to cut off some unnecessary charities 
and to refrain from new furnishing the drawing- 
room ; to which expedients she afterwards added the 
happy thought of their taking no present down to 
Anne, as had been the usual yearly custom. But 
these measures, however good in themselves, were 
insufficient for the real extent of the evil, the 
whole of which Sir Walter found himself obliged 
to confess to her soon afterwards. Elizabeth had 
nothing to propose of deeper efficacy. She felt 
herself ill used and unfortunate, as did her father; 
and they were neither of them able to devise any 
means of lessening their expenses without compro- 
mising their dignity, or relinquishing their com- 
forts in a way not to be borne. 

There was only a small part of his estate that Sir 
Walter could dispose of; but had every acre been 
alienable, it would have made no difference. He 
had condescended to mortgage as far as he had the 
power, but he would never condescend to sell. No; 
he would never disgrace his name so far. The 
Kellynch estate should be transmitted whole and 
entire, as he had received it. 

Their two confidential friends, Mr. Shepherd, 


PERSUASION. 


15 


who lived in the neighboring market town, and 
Lady Russell, were called on to advise them; 
and both father and daughter seemed to expect that 
something should be struck out by one or the other 
to remove their embarrassments and reduce their 
expenditure, without involving the loss of any 
indulgence of taste or pride. 


16 


PERSUASION. 


CHAPTER II. 

Mr. Shepherd, a civil, cautious lawyer, who, what- 
ever might be his hold or his views on Sir Walter, 
would rather have the disagreeable prompted by 
anybody else, excused himself from offering the 
slightest hint, and only begged leave to recommend 
an implicit reference to the excellent judgment of 
Lady Russell, from whose known good sense he 
fully expected to have just such resolute measures 
advised as he meant to see finally adopted. 

Lady Russell was most anxiously zealous on the 
subject, and gave it much serious consideration. 
She was a woman rather of sound than of quick 
abilities, whose difficulties in coming to any deci- 
sion in this instance were great, from the opposi- 
tion of two leading principles. She was of strict 
integrity herself, with a delicate sense of honor; 
but she was as desirous of saving Sir Walter’s feel- 
ings, as solicitous for the credit of the family, as 
aristocratic in her ideas of what was due to them, 
as anybody of sense and honesty could well be. 
She was a benevolent, charitable, good woman, and 
capable of strong attachments; most correct in her 
conduct, strict in her notions of decorum, and with 
manners that were held a standard of good-breed- 
ing. She had a cultivated mind, and was, gener- 
ally speaking, rational and consistent; but she had 


PERSUASION. 


17 


prejudices on the side of ancestry; she had a value 
for rank and consequence, which blinded her a 
little to the faults of those who possessed them. 
Herself the widow of only a knight, she gave the 
dignity of a baronet all its due; and Sir Walter, 
independent of his claims as an old acquaintance, 
an attentive neighbor, an obliging landlord, the 
husband of her very dear friend, the father of Anne 
and her sisters, was, as being Sir Walter, in her 
apprehension entitled to a great deal of compassion 
and consideration under his present difficulties. 

They must retrench, — that did not admit of a 
doubt; but she was very anxious to have it done 
with the least possible pain to him and Elizabeth. 
She drew up plans of economy, she made exact 
calculations, and she did what nobody else thought 
of doing, — she consulted Anne, who never seemed 
considered by the others as having any interest in 
the question. She consulted, and in a degree was 
influenced by, her in marking out the scheme of 
retrenchment which was at last submitted to Sir 
Walter. Every emendation of Anne’s had been 
on the side of honesty against importance. She 
wanted more vigorous measures, a more complete 
reformation, a quicker release from debt, a much 
higher tone of indifference for everything but jus- 
tice and equity. 

^^If we can persuade your father to all this,” 
said Lady Eussell, looking over her paper, ‘^much 
may be done. If he will adopt these regulations, 
in seven j^ears he will be clear; and I hope we 
may be able to convince him and Elizabeth that 
Kellynch Hall has a respectability in itself which 
2 


18 


PERSUASION. 


cannot be affected by these reductions; and that 
the true dignity of Sir Walter Elliot will be very 
far from lessened in the eyes of sensible people, by 
his acting like a man of principle. What will he 
be doing, in fact, but what very many of our first 
families have done, or ought to do ? There will be 
nothing singular in his case; and it is singularity 
which often makes the worst part of our suffering, 
as it always does of our condi^pt. I have great 
hope of our prevailing. We must be serious and 
decided; for, after all, the person who has con- 
tracted debts must pay them; and though a great 
deal is due to the feelings of the gentleman, and 
the head of a house, like your father, there is still 
more due to the character of an honest man.’^ 

This was the principle on which Anne wanted 
her father to be proceeding, his friends to be urg- 
ing him. She considered it as an act of indispen- 
sable duty to clear away the claims of creditors, 
with all the expedition which the most compre- 
hensive retrenchments could secure, and saw no 
dignity in anything short of it. She wanted it to 
be prescribed, and felt as a duty. She rated Lady 
KusselUs influence highly; and as to the severe 
degree of self-denial which her own conscience 
prompted, she believed there might be little more 
difficulty in persuading them to a complete than 
to half a reformation. Her knowledge of her 
father and Elizabeth inclined her to think that the 
sacrifice of one pair of horses would be hardly less 
painful than of both, and so on, through the whole 
list of Lady Eussell’s too gentle reductions. 

How Anne’s more rigid requisitions might have 


PERSUASION. 


19 


been taken is of little consequence; Lady Eussell’s 
bad no success at all, could not be put up with, 
were not to be borne. ^‘What! every comfort of 
life knocked off! Journeys, London, servants, 
horses, table, — contractions and restrictions every 
where. To live no longer with the decencies 
even of a private gentleman I NTo, he would sooner 
quit Kellynch Hall at once, than remain in it on 
such disgraceful terms.’’ 

^‘Quit Kellynch Hall.” The hint was imme- 
diately taken up by Mr. Shepherd, whose interest 
was involved in the reality of Sir Walter’s re- 
trenching, and who was perfectly persuaded that 
nothing would be done without a change of abode. 

Since the idea had been started in the very 
quarter which ought to dictate, he had no scruple,” 
he said, “ in confessing his judgment to be entirely 
on that side. It did not appear to him that Sir 
Walter could materially alter his style of living in 
a house which had such a character of hospitality 
and ancient dignity to support. In any other 
place Sir Walter might judge for himself; and 
would be looked up to, as regulating the modes of 
life, in whatever way he might choose to model his 
household.” 

Sir Walter would quit Kellynch Hall ; and after 
a very few days more of doubt and indecision, the 
great question of whither he should go was settled, 
and the first outline of this important change made 
out. 

There had been three alternatives, — London, 
Bath, or another house in the country. All 
Anne’s wishes had been for the latter. A small 


20 


PERSUASION. 


house in their own neighborhood, where they 
might still have Lady Bussell’s society, still be 
near Mary,' and still have the pleasure of some- 
times seeing the lawns and groves of Kellynch, 
was the object of her ambition. But the usual 
fate of Anne attended her, in having something 
very opposite from her inclination fixed on. She 
disliked Bath, and did not think it agreed with 
her; and Bath was to be her home. 

Sir Walter had at first thought more of London; 
but Mr. Shepherd felt that he could not be trusted 
in London, and had been skilful enough to dis- 
suade him from it, and make Bath preferred. It 
was a much safer place for a gentleman in his pre- 
dicament; he might there be important at compar- 
atively little expense. Two material advantages 
of Bath over London had of course been given all 
their weight, — its more convenient distance from 
Kellynch, only fifty miles, and Lady Bussell’s 
spending some part of every winter there ; and to 
the very great satisfaction of Lady Bussell, whose 
first views on the projected change had been for 
Bath, Sir Walter and Elizabeth were induced to 
believe that they should lose neither consequence 
nor enjoyment by settling there. 

Lady Bussell felt obliged to oppose her dear 
Anne’s known wishes. It would be too much to 
expect Sir Walter to descend into a small house in 
his own neighborhood. Anne herself would have 
found the mortifications of it more than she fore- 
saw, and to Sir Walter’s feelings they must have 
been dreadful. And with regard to Anne’s dislike 
of Bath, she considered it as a prejudice and mis- 


PERSUASION. 


21 


take, arising, first, from the circumstance of her 
having been three years at school there, after her 
mother’s death; and secondly, from her happen- 
ing to be not in perfectly good spirits the only 
winter which she had afterwards spent there with 
herself. 

Lady Russell was fond of Bath, in short, and 
disposed to think it must suit them all; and as to 
her young friend’s health, by passing all the 
warm months with her at Kellynch Lodge, every 
danger would be avoided ; and it was, in fact, a 
change which must do both health and spirits 
good. Anne had been too little from home, too 
little seen. Her spirits were not high. A larger 
society would improve them. She wanted her to 
he more known. 

The undesirableness of any other house in the 
same neighborhood for Sir Walter was certainly 
much strengthened by one part, and a very material 
part of the scheme, which had been happily en- 
grafted on the beginning. He was not only to 
quit his home, but to see it in the hands of others ; 
a trial of fortitude which stronger heads than Sir 
Walter’s have found too much. Kellynch Hall 
was to be let. This, however, was a profound se- 
cret, not to be breathed beyond their own circle. 

Sir Walter could not have borne the degradation 
of being known to design letting his house. Mr. 
Shepherd had once mentioned the word ^^adver- 
tise,” but never dared approach it again. Sir 
Walter spurned the idea of its being offered in any 
manner; forbade the slightest hint being dropped 
of his having such an intention; and it was only 


22 


PERSUASION. 


on the supposition of his being spontaneously soli- 
cited by some most unexceptionable applicant, on 
his own terms, and as a great favor, that he would 
let it at all. 

How quick come the reasons for approving what 
we like ! Lady Eussell had another excellent one 
at hand for being extremely glad that Sir Walter 
and his family were to remove from the country. 
Elizabeth had been lately forming an intimacy 
which she wished to see interrupted. It was with 
a daughter of Mr. Shepherd, who had returned, 
after an unprosperous marriage, to her father’s 
house, with the additional burden of two children. 
She was a clever young woman, who understood 
the art of pleasing, — the art of pleasing, at least, 
at Kelly nch Hall, — and who had made herself so 
acceptable to Miss Elliot as to have been already 
staying there more than once, in spite of all that 
Lady Kussell, who thought it a friendship quite 
out of place, could hint of caution and reserve. 

Lady Russell, indeed, had scarcely any influence 
with Elizabeth, and seemed to love her rather be- 
cause she would love her than because Elizabeth 
deserved it. She had never received from her 
more than outward attention, nothing beyond the 
observances of complaisance; had never succeeded 
in any point which she wanted to carry, against 
previous inclination. She had been repeatedly 
very earnest in trying to get Anne included in the 
visit to London, sensibly open to all the injustice 
and all the discredit of the selfish arrangements 
which shut her out; and on many lesser occasions 
had endeavored to give Elizabeth the advantage of 


PERSUASION. 


23 


her own better judgment and experience, — but 
always in vain. Elizabeth would go her own way; 
and never had she pursued it in more decided oppo- 
sition to Lady Russell than in this selection of 
Mrs. Clay, — turning from the society of so deserv- 
ing a sister, to bestow her affection and confidence 
on one w^ho ought to have been nothing to her but 
the object of distant civility. 

From situation, Mrs. Clay was, in Lady Rus- 
sell’s estimate, a very unequal, and in her charac- 
ter, she believed, a, very dangerous companion; 
and a removal that would leave Mrs. Clay behind, 
and bring a choice of more suitable intimates with- 
in Miss Elliot’s reach, was therefore an object of 
first-rate importance. 


24 


PERSUASION. 


CHAPTER III. 

MUST take leave to observe, Sir Walter,’^ said 
Mr. Shepherd one morning at Kellynch Hall, as 
he laid down the newspaper, “that the present 
juncture is much in our favor. This peace will be 
turning all our rich naval officers ashore. They 
will he all wanting a home. Could not he a better 
time, Sir Walter, for having a choice of tenants, 
very responsible tenants. Many a noble fortune 
has been made during the war. If a rich admiral 
were to come in our way. Sir Walter — 

“He would he a very lucky man, Shepherd,’’ 
replied Sir Walter; “that’s all I have to remark. 
A prize, indeed, would Kellynch Hall he to him; 
rather the greatest prize of all, let him have taken 
ever so many before, — hey. Shepherd ? ” 

Mr. Shepherd laughed, as he knew he must, at 
this wit, and then added, — 

“I presume to observe. Sir Walter, that, in the 
way of business, gentlemen of the navy are well 
to deal with. I have had a little knowledge of 
their methods of doing business; and I am free to 
confess that they have very liberal notions, and 
are as likely to make desirable tenants as any set 
of people one should meet with. Therefore, Sir 
Walter, what I would take leave to suggest is, 
that if in consequence of any rumors getting 


PERSUASION. 


25 


abroad of your intention, — which must he con- 
templated as a possible thing, because we know 
how difficult it is to keep the actions and designs 
of one part of the world from the notice and curi- 
osity of the other, — consequence has its tax, — I, 
John Shepherd, might conceal any family-matters 
that I chose, for nobody would think it worth 
their while to observe me; but Sir Walter Elliot 
has eyes upon him which it may be very difficult 
to elude; and therefore thus much I venture upon 
that it will not greatly surprise me if, with all 
our caution, some rumor of the truth should get 
abroad; in the supposition of which, as I was 
going to observe, since applications will unques- 
tionably follow, I should think any from our 
wealthy naval commanders particularly worth at- 
tending to; and beg leave to add, that two hours 
will bring me over at any time, to save you the 
trouble of replying.’’ 

Sir Walter only nodded; but soon afterwards, 
rising and pacing the room, he observed sarcas- 
tically, — 

There are few among the gentlemen of the 
navy, I imagine, who would not be surprised to 
find themselves in a house of this description.” 

^^They would look around them, no doubt, and 
bless their good fortune, ” said Mrs. Clay, for Mrs. 
Clay was present; her father had driven her over, 
nothing being of so much use to Mrs. Clay’s health 
as a drive to Kellynch; ‘‘but I quite agree with 
my father in thinking a sailor might be a very 
desirable tenant. I have known a good deal of the 
profession; and besides their liberality, they are 


26 


PERSUASION. 


so neat and careful in all their ways! These valu- 
able pictures of yours, Sir Walter, if you chose to 
leave tliem, would he perfectly safe. Everything 
ill and about the house would be taken such excel- 
lent care of I The gardens and shrubberies would 
be kept in almost as high order as they are now. 
You need not be afraid, Miss Elliot, of your own 
sweet flower-garden’s being neglected.” 

^‘As to all that,” rejoined Sir Walter, coolly, 

supposing I were induced to let my house, I 
have by no means made up my mind as to the 
privileges to be annexed to it. I am not particu- 
larly disposed to favor a tenant. The park would 
be open to him of course, and few navy officers, or 
men of any other description, can have had such a 
range; but what restrictions T might impose on 
the use of the pleasure grounds is another thing. 
I am not fond of the idea of my shrubberies being 
always approachable; and I should recommend 
Miss Elliot to be on her guard with respect to her 
flower-garden. I am very little disposed to grant 
a tenant of Kellynch Hall any extraordinary favor, 

I assure you, be he sailor or soldier.” 

After a short pause, Mr. Shepherd presumed to 
say, — 

‘‘In all these cases there are established usages 
which make everything plain and easy between 
landlord and tenant. Your interest. Sir Walter, 
is in pretty safe hands. Depend upon me for tak- 
ing care that no tenant has more than his just 
rights. I venture to hint that Sir Walter Elliot 
cannot be half so jealous for his own as John 
Shepherd will be for him.” 


PERSUASION. 


27 


Here Anne spoke, — 

Tlie navy, I think, who have done so much for 
ns, have at least an equal claim with any other set 
of men, for all the comforts and all the privileges 
which any home can give. Sailors work hard 
enough ^r their comforts, we must all allow.’’ 

‘^Very true, very true. What Miss Anne says 
is very true, ” was Mr. Shepherd’s rejoinder, and 
^^Oh, certainly,” was his daughter’s; but Sir 
Walter’s remark w^as, soon afterwards, — 

^^The profession has its utility, but I should be 
sorry to see any friend of mine belonging to it.” 

‘^Indeed! ” was the reply, and with a look of 
surprise. 

“ Yes; it is in two points offensive to me, — I 
have two strong grounds of objection to it. First, 
as being the means of bringing persons of obscure 
birth into undue distinction, and raising men to 
honors which their fathers and grandfathers never 
dreamt of; and, secondly, as it cuts up a man’s 
youth and vigor most horribly : a sailor grows old 
sooner than any other man ; I have observed it all 
my life. A man is in greater danger in the navy 
of being insulted by the rise of one whose father 
his father might have disdained to speak to, and 
of becoming prematurely an object of disgust him- 
self, than in any other line. One day last spring, 
in town, I was in company with two men, striking 
instances of what I am talking of, — Lord St. 
Ives, whose father w^e all know to have been a 
country curate, without bread to eat; I was to give 
place to Lord St. Ives, — and a certain Admiral 
Baldwin, the most deplorable-looking personage 


28 


PERSUASION. 


you can imagine; his face the color of mahogany 
rough and rugged to the last degree, all lines and 
wrinkles, nine gray hairs of a side, and nothing 
but a dab of powder at top. — ^^In the name of 
heaven, who is that old fellow? ’’ said I to a friend 
of mine who was standing near (Sir Basil Mor- 
ley). — Old fellow!” cried Sir Basil, it is 
Admiral Baldwin. Wliat do you take his age to 
he?’’ — Sixty,” said I, ^^or perhaps sixty-two.” 
— Forty,” replied Sir Basil, — forty, and no 
more.” Picture to yourselves my amazement: I 
shall not easily forget Admiral Baldwin. I never 
saw quite so wretched an example of what a seafar- 
ing life can do; hut to a degree, I know it is the 
same with them all. They are all knocked about, 
and exposed to every climate and every weather, 
till they are not fit to he seen. It is a pity they 
are not knocked on the head at once, before they 
reach Admiral Baldwin’s age.” 

‘^Nay, Sir Walter,” cried Mrs. Clay, ^‘this is 
being severe indeed. Have a little mercy on the 
poor men. We are not all horn to he handsome. 
The sea is no heautifier, certainly; sailors do grow 
old betimes, — I have often observed it; they soon 
lose the look of youth. But then, is not it tlie 
same with many other professions, perhaps most 
others? Soldiers, in active service, are not at all 
better off; and even in the quieter professions, 
there is a toil and a labor of the mind, if not of 
the body, which seldom leaves a man’s looks to 
the natural effect of time. The lawyer plods, 
quite careworn; the physician is up at all hours, 
and travelling in all weather; and even the clergy- 


PERSUASION. 


29 


man, ’’ — she stopped a moment to consider what 
might do for the clergyman, — ^‘and even the 
clergyman, you know, is obliged to go into in- 
fected rooms, and expose his health and looks to 
all the injury of a poisonous atmosphere. In fact, 
as I have long been convinced, though every pro- 
fession is necessary and honorable in its turn, it is 
only the lot of those who are not obliged to follow 
any, w^ho can live in a regular way, in the country, 
choosing their own hours, following their own pur- 
suits, and living on their own property, without 
the torment of tr3dngfor more, — it is onl}'- their lot, 
I say, to hold the blessings of health and a good 
appearance to the utmost. I know no other set of 
men but what lose something of their personable- 
ness when they cease to be quite young.’’ 

It seemed as if Mr. Shepherd, in this anxiety to 
bespeak Sir Walter’s good-will towards a naval 
officer as tenant, had been gifted with foresight; 
for the very first application for the house w'as 
from an Admiral Croft, with whom he shortly 
afterwards fell into company in attending the 
quarter sessions at Taunton; and, indeed, he had 
received a hint of the Admiral from a London 
correspondent. By the report which he hastened 
over to Kellynch to make. Admiral Croft was a 
native of Somersetshire, who having acquired a 
very handsome fortune, was wishing to settle in 
his own country, and had come down to Taunton in 
order to look at some advertised places in that im- 
mediate neighborhood, which, however, had not 
suited him; that accidentally hearing (it was 
just as he had foretold, Mr. Shepherd observed. Sir 


30 


PERSUASION. 


Walter’s concerns could not be kept a secret), — ac- 
cidentally hearing of the possibility of Kellynch 
Hall being to let, and understanding his (Mr. 
Shepherd’s) connection with the owner, he had 
introduced himself to him in order to make par- 
ticular inquiries, and had, in the course of a 
pretty long conference, expressed as strong an in- 
clination for the place as a man who knew it only 
by description could feel ; and given Mr. Shepherd, 
in his explicit account of himself, every proof of 
his being a most responsible, eligible tenant. 

^‘And who is Admiral Croft?” was Sir Wal- 
ter’s cold, suspicious inquiry. * 

Mr. Shepherd answered for his being of a gen- 
tleman’s family, and mentioned a place; and Anne 
after the little pause which followed, added, — 

‘‘He is rear-admiral of the white. He was m 
the Trafalgar action, and has been in the East 
Indies since; he has been stationed there, I be- 
lieve, several years.” 

“Then I take it for granted,” observed Sir 
Walter, “that his face is about as orange as the 
cuffs and capes of my livery.” 

Mr. Shepherd hastened to assure him that Admiral 
Croft was a very hale, hearty, well-looking man, — 
a little weather-beaten, to be sure, but not much, — 
and quite the gentleman in all his notions and 
behavior; not likely to make the smallest diffi- 
culty about terms; only wanted a comfortable 
home, and to get into it as soon as possible ; knew 
he must pay for his convenience, — knew what rent 
a ready-furnished house of that consequence might 
fetch; should not have been surprised if Sir 


PERSUASION. 


31 


Walter had asked more; had inquired about the 
manor; would be glad of the deputation, certainly, 
but made no great point of it; said he sometimes 
took out a gun, but never killed: quite the 
gentleman. 

Mr. Shepherd was eloquent on the subject, 
pointing out all the circumstances of the Ad- 
miral’s family, which made him peculiarly de- 
sirable as a tenant. He was a married man, and 
without children; the very state to be wished for. 
A house was never taken good care of, Mr. Shep- 
herd observed, without a lady; he did not know 
whether furniture might not be in danger of suf- 
fering as much where there was no lady as where 
there were many children. A lady without a 
family was the very best preserver of furniture in 
the world. He had seen Mrs. Croft, too; she was 
at Taunton with the Admiral, and had been pres- 
ent almost all the time they were talking the 
matter over. 

^^Andavery well-spoken, genteel, shrewd lady 
she seemed to be,” continued he; asked more 
questions about the house and terms and taxes 
than the Admiral himself, and seemed more con- 
versant with business; and, moreover. Sir Walter, 
I found she was not quite unconnected in this 
country any more than her husband, — that is to 
say, she is sister to a gentleman who did live 
amongst us once; she told me so herself, — sister 
to the gentleman who lived a few years back at 
Monkford. Bless me! \vhat was his name? At 
this moment I cannot recollect his name, though 
1 have heard it so lately. Penelope, my dear, can 


32 


PERSUASION. 


you help me to the name of the gentleman who lived 
at Monkford, — Mrs. Croft’s brother? ” 

But Mrs. Clay was talking so eagerly with Miss 
Elliot that she did not hear the appeal. 

have no conception whom you can mean, 
Shepherd; I remember no gentleman resident at 
Monkford since the time of old Governor Trent.” 

Bless me! how very odd! I shall forget my 
own name soon, I suppose. A name that I am so 
very well acquainted with; knew the gentleman so 
well by sight; seen him a hundred times; came 
to consult me once, I remember, about a trespass 
of one of his neighbors; farmer’s man breaking 
into his orchard, — wall torn down, — apples 
stolen, — caught in the act; and afterwards, con- 
trary to my judgment, submitted to an amicable 
compromise. Very odd, indeed!” 

After waiting another moment, — 

You mean Mr. Wentworth, I suppose?” said 
Anne. 

Mr. Shepherd was all gratitude. 

^‘Wentworth was the very name! Mr. Went- 
worth was the very man. He had the curacy of 
Monkford, you know. Sir Walter, some time hack, 
for two or three years. Came there about the year 
— 5, I take it. You remember him, I am sure.” 

^‘Wentworth? Oh, ay, Mr. Wentworth, the 
curate of Monkford. Y^'ou misled me by the term 
^ gentleman.’ I thought you were speaking of some 
man of property. Mr. Wentworth was nobody, I 
remember; quite unconnected; nothing to do with 
the Strafford family. One wonders how the names 
of many of our nobility become so common.” 


PERSUASION. 


33 


As Mr. Shepherd perceived that this connection 
of the Crofts did them no service with Sir Walter, 
he mentioned it no more; returning, with all his 
zeal, to dwell on the circumstances more indisput- 
ably in their favor, — their age and number and 
fortune; the high idea they had formed of Kel- 
lynch Hall, and extreme solicitude for the advan- 
tage of renting it; making it appear as if they 
ranked nothing beyond the happiness of being ten- 
ants of Sir Walter Elliot : an extraordinary taste, 
certainly, could they have been supposed in the 
secret of Sir Walter’s estimate of the dues of a 
tenant. 

It succeeded, however; and though Sir Walter 
must ever look with an evil eye on any one intend- 
ing to inhabit that house, and think them infi- 
nitely too well off in being permitted to rent it on 
the highest terms, he was talked into allowing 
Mr. Shepherd to proceed in the treaty, and au- 
thorizing him to wait on Admiral Croft, who still 
remained at Taunton, and fix a day for the house 
being seen. 

Sir Walter was not very wise; but still he had ex- 
perience enough of the world to feel that a more 
unobjectionable tenant in all essentials than Ad- 
miral Croft bid fair to be could hardly offer. So 
far went his understanding; and his vanity sup- 
plied a little additional soothing, in the Admiral’s 
situation in life, which was just high enough and 
not too high. have let my house to Admiral 
Croft,” would sound extremely well; very much 

better than to any mere Mr. ; a Mr. (save, 

perhaps, some half-dozen in the nation) always 


34 


PERSUASION. 


needs a note of explanation. An Admiral speaks 
his own consequence, and at the same time can 
never make a baronet look small. In all their 
dealings and intercourse, Sir Walter Elliot must 
ever have the precedence. 

Nothing could be done without a reference to 
Elizabeth : but her inclination was growing so 
strong for a removal that she was happy to have 
it fixed and expedited by a tenant at hand; and not 
a word to suspend decision was uttered by her. 

Mr. Shepherd was completely empowered to act ; 
and no sooner had such an end been reached than 
Anne, who had been a most attentive listener to 
the whole, left the room, to seek the comfort of 
cool air for her flushed cheeks ; and as she walked 
along a favorite grove, said, with a gentle sigh, 
^^A few months more, and he, perhaps, may be 
walking here.’^ 


PERSUASION. 


35 


CHAPTER IV. 

He was not Mr. Wentworth, the former curate of 
Monkford, however suspicious appearances might 
he, hut a Captain Frederick Wentworth, his 
brother, who being made commander in conse- 
quence of the action off St. Domiugo, and not im- 
mediately employed, had come into Somersetshire 
in the summer of 1806; and having no parent liv- 
ing, found a home for half a year at Monkford. 
He was at that time a remarkably fine young 
man, with a great deal of intelligence, spirit, and 
brilliancy; and Anne an extremely pretty girl, 
with gentleness, modesty, taste, and feeling. 
Half the sum of attraction, on either side, might 
have been enough, for he had nothing to do, and 
she had hardly anybody to love; but the encounter 
of such lavish recommendations could not fail. 
They were gradually acquainted, and when ac- 
quainted, rapidly and deeply in love. It would be 
difficult to say which had seen highest perfection 
in the other, or which had been the happiest, — 
she, in receiving his declarations and proposals, or 
he in having them accepted. 

A' short period of exquisite felicity followed, and 
hut a short one. Troubles soon arose. Sir Walter, 
on being applied to, without actually withholding 
his consent, or saying it should never be, gave it 


36 


PERSUASION. 


all the negative of great astonishment, great cold- 
ness, great silence, and a professed resolution of 
doing nothing for his daughter. He thought it 
a very degrading alliance; and Lady Kussell, 
though with more tempered and pardonable pride, 
received it as a most unfortunate one. 

Anne Elliot, with all her claims of birth, 
beauty, and mind, to throw herself away at nine- 
teen; involve herself at nineteen in an engage- 
ment with a young man who had nothing but 
himself to recommend him, and no hopes of attain- 
ing affluence but in the chances of a most uncer- 
tain profession, and no connections to secure even 
his farther rise in that profession, would be, in- 
deed, a throwing away which she grieved to think 
of ! Anne Elliot, so young: known to so few, to 
be snatched off by a stranger without alliance or 
fortune; or rather sunk by him into a state of 
most wearing, anxious, youth-killing dependence ! 
It must not be, if by any fair interference of 
friendship, any representations from one who had 
almost a mother’s love and mother’s rights, it 
would be prevented. 

Captain Wentworth had no fortune. He had 
been lucky in his profession; but spending freely 
what had come freely, had realized nothing. But 
he was confident that he should soon be rich; full 
of life and ardor, he knew that he should soon 
have a ship, and soon be on a station that would 
lead to everything he wanted. He had always 
been lucky; he knew he should be so still. Such 
confidence, powerful in its own warmth, and be- 
witching in the wit which often expressed it, must 


PERSUASION. 


37 


have been enough for Anne; but Lady Russell, 
saw it very differently. His sanguine temper, and 
fearlessness of mind, operated very differently on 
her. She saw in it but an aggravation of the evil. 
It only added a dangerous character to himself. 
He was brilliant, he was headstrong. Lady Rus- 
sell had little taste for wit; and of anything ap- 
proaching to imprudence a horror. She deprecated 
the connection in every light. 

Such opposition as these feelings produced, was 
more than Anne could combat. Young and gentle 
as she was, it might yet have been possible to with- 
stand her father’s ill will, though unsoftened by 
one kind word or look on the part of her sister; 
but Lady Russell, whom she had always loved and 
relied on, could not, with such steadiness of opin- 
ion and such tenderness of manner, be contin- 
ually advising her in vain. She was persuaded to 
believe the engagement a wrong thing; indiscreet, 
improper, hardly capable of success, and not de- 
serving it. But it was not a merely selfish cau- 
tion under which she acted, in putting an end to 
it. Had she not imagined herself consulting his 
good, even more than her own, she could hardly 
have given him up. The belief of being prudent 
and self-denying, principally for his advantage, 
was her chief consolation under the misery of a 
parting, — a final j)arting; and every consolation 
was required, for she had to encounter all the addi- 
tional pain of opinions on his side, totally uncon- 
vinced and unbending, and of his feeling himself 
ill used by so forced a relinquishment. He had 
left the country in consequence. 


38 


PERSUASION. 


A few months had seen the beginning and the 
end of their acquaintance; but not with a few 
months ended Anne’s share of suffering from it. 
Her attachment and regrets had for a long time 
clouded every enjoyment of youth; and an early 
loss of bloom and spirits had been their lasting 
effect. 

More than seven years were gone since this lit- 
tle history of sorrowful interest had reached its 
close ; and time had softened down much, perhaps 
nearly all of peculiar attachment to him, but she 
had been too dependent on time alone; no aid had 
been given in change of place, except in one visit 
to Bath soon after the rupture, or in any novelty 
or enlargement of society. Ho one had ever come 
within the Kelly nch circle who could bear a com- 
parison with Frederick Wentworth, as he stood in 
her memory. Ho second attachment — the only 
thoroughly natural, happy, and sufficient cure, at 
her time of life — had been possible to the nice tone 
of her mind, the fastidiousness of her taste, in the 
small limits of the society around them. She had 
been solicited, when about two-and-twenty, to 
change her name, by the young man who not long 
afterwards found a more willing mind in her 
younger sister; and Lady Bussell had lamented her 
refusal : for Charles Musgrove was the eldest son of a 
man whose landed property and general importance 
were second, in that country, only to Sir Walter’s, 
and of good character and appearance ; and however 
Lady Bussell might have asked yet for something 
more while Anne was nineteen, she would have 
rejoiced to see her at twentj^-two so respectably 


PERSUASION. 


39 


removed from the partialities and injustice of her 
father’s house, and settled so permanently near 
herself. But in this case Anne had left nothing 
for advice to do; and though Lady Russell, as sat- 
isfied as ever with her own discretion, never wished 
the past undone, she began now to have the anx- 
iety which borders on hopelessness for Anne’s be- 
ing tempted, by some man of talents and indepen- 
dence, to enter a state for which she held her to be 
peculiarly fitted by her warm affections and domes- 
tic habits. 

They knew not each other’s opinion, either its 
constancy or its change, on the one leading point of 
Anne’s conduct, for the subject was never alluded 
to; but Anne at seven-and-twenty thought very 
differently from what she had been made to think 
at nineteen. She did not blame Lady Russell, 
she did not blame herself for having been guided 
by her; but she felt that were any young person 
in similar circumstances to apply to her for coun- 
sel, they would never receive any of such certain 
immediate wretchedness, such uncertain future 
good. She was persuaded that under every disad- 
vantage of disapprobation at home, and every anx- 
iety attending his profession, all their probable 
fears, delays, and disappointments, she should yet 
have been a happier woman in maintaining the 
engagement, than she had been in the sacrifice of 
it ; and this, she fully believed, had the usual share, 
had even more than an usual share of all such so- 
licitudes and suspense been theirs, without refer- 
ence to the actual results of their case, which, as 
it happened, would have bestowed earlier prosper- 


40 


PERSUASION. 


ity than could be reasonably calculated on. All 
his sanguine expectations, all his confidence, had 
been justified. His genius and ardor had seemed 
to foresee and to command his prosperous path. 
He had, very soon after their engagement ceased, 
got employ; and all that he had told her would 
follow had taken place. He had distinguished 
himself, and early gained the other step in rank, 
and must now, by successive captures, have made 
a handsome fortune. She had only navy lists and 
newspapers for her authority, but she could not 
doubt his being rich; and, in favor of his con- 
stancy, she had no reason to believe him married. 

How eloquent could Anne Elliot have been ! 
how eloquent, at least, Tvere her wishes on the 
side of early warm attachment, and a cheerful con- 
fidence in futurity, against that over-anxious cau- 
tion which seems to insult exertion and distrust 
Providence ! She had been forced into prudence in 
her youth, she learned romance as she grew older, — 
the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning. 

With all these circumstances, recollections, and 
feelings, she could not hear that Captain Went- 
worth’s sister was likely to live at Kellynch with- 
out a revival of former pain; and many a stroll 
and many a sigh were necessary to dispel the agi- 
tation of the idea. She often told herself it was 
folly, before she could harden her nerves suffi- 
ciently to feel the continual discussion of the 
Crofts and their business no evil. She was as- 
sisted, however, by that perfect indifference and 
apparent unconsciousness, among the only three of 
her own friends in the secret of the past, which 


PERSUASION. 


41 


seemed almost to deny any recollection of it. She 
could do justice to the superiority of Lady Kus- 
sell’s motives in this, over those of her father and 
Elizabeth; she could honor all the better feelings 
of her calmness; hut the general air of oblivion 
among them was highly important from whatever 
it sprung; and in the event of Admiral Croft’s 
really taking Kellynch Hall, she rejoiced anew 
over the conviction which had always been most 
grateful to her, of the past being known to those 
three only among her connections by whom no 
syllable, she believed, would ever be whispered, 
and in the trust that among his, the brother only 
with whom he had been residing had received 
any information of their short-lived engagement. 
That brother had been long removed from the 
country; and being a sensible man, and, moreover, 
a single man at the time, she had a fond depen- 
dence on no human creature’s having heard of it 
from him 

The sister, Mrs. Croft, had then been out of 
England accompanying her husband on a foreign 
station, and her own sister, Mary, had been at 
school while it all occurred, and never admitted 
by the pride of some, and the delicacy of others, to 
the smallest knowledge of it afterwards. 

With these supports, she hoped that the acquaint- 
ance between herself and the Crofts, which, with 
Lady Eussell still resident in Kellynch, and Mary 
fixed only three miles off, must be anticipated, 
need not involve any particular awkwardness. 


42 


PERSUASION. 


CHAPTER V. 

On the morning appointed for Admiral and Mrs. 
Croft^s seeing Kellynch Hall, Anne found it most 
natural to take her almost daily walk to Lady 
RusselPs, and keep out of the way till all was 
over; when she found it most natural to be sorry 
that she had missed the opportunity of seeing 
them. 

This meeting of the two parties proved highly 
satisfactory, and decided tlie whole business at 
once. Each lady was previously well disposed 
for an agreement, and saw nothing, therefore, hut 
good manners in the other; and with regard to 
the gentlemen, there was such a hearty good-humor, 
such an open, trusting liberality on the Admiral’s 
side, as could not but influence Sir Walter, who 
had besides been flattered into his very best and 
most polished behavior by Mr. Shepherd’s assur- 
ances of his being known, by report, to the Admi- 
ral, as a model of good breeding. 

The house and grounds and furniture were ap- 
proved; the Crofts were approved; terms, time, 
everything, and everybody was right; and Mr. 
Shepherd’s clerks were set to work, without there 
having been a single preliminary difference to 
modify of all that ‘‘This indenture showeth.” 

Sir Walter, without hesitation, declared the 
Admiral to be the best-looking sailor he had ever 


PERSUASION. 


43 


met with, and went so far as to say that if his 
own man might have had the arranging of his hair, 
he should not he ashamed of being seen with him 
anywhere; and the Admiral, with sympathetic cor- 
diality, observed to his wife as they drove back 
through the Park, I thought we should soon come 
to a deal, my dear, in spite of what they told us at 
Taunton; the Baronet will never set the Thames 
on fire, but there seems no harm in him,’’ — recip- 
rocal compliments, which would have been esteemed 
about equal. 

The Crofts were to have possession at Michael- 
mas; and as Sir Walter proposed removing to 
Bath in the course of the preceding month, there 
was no time to be lost in making every dependent 
arrangement. 

Lady Bussell, convinced that Anne would not be 
allowed to be of any use or any importance in the 
choice of the house which they were going to 
secure, was very unwilling to have her hurried 
away so soon, and wanted to make it possible for her 
to stay behind, till she might convey her to Bath 
herself after Christmas; but having engagements 
of her own, which must take her from Kellynch 
for several weeks, she was unable to give the full 
invitation she wished; and Anne, though dreading 
the possible heats of September in all the white 
glare of Bath, and grieving to forego all the influ- 
ence so sweet and so sad of the autumnal months 
in the country, did not think that, everything 
considered, she wished to remain. It would be 
most right and most wise, and therefore must in- 
volve least suffering, to go with the others. 


44 


PERSUASION. 


Something occurred, however, to give her a 
different dut}^ Mar}", often a little unwell, and 
always thinking a great deal of her own complaints, 
and always in the habit of claiming Anne when 
anything was the matter, was indisposed; and 
foreseeing that she should not have a day’s health 
all the autumn, entreated, or rather required her, 
for it was hardly entreaty, to come to Up^jercross 
Cottage, and bear her company as long as she could 
want her instead of going to Bath. 

“I cannot possibly do without Anne,” was 
Mary’s reasoning; and Elizabeth’s reply was: 
‘ ‘ Then I am sure Anne had better stay, for nobody 
will want her in Bath.” 

To be claimed as a good, though in an improper 
style, is at least better than being rejected as no 
good at all ; and Anne, glad to be thought of some 
use, glad to have anything marked out as a duty, 
and certainly not sorry to have the scene of it in 
the country, and her own dear country, readily 
agreed to stay 

This invitation of Mary’s removed all Lady 
Bussell’s difficulties, and it was consequently soon 
settled that Anne should not go to Bath till Lady 
Bussell took her, and that all the intervening time 
should be divided between Uppercross Cottage and 
Kellynch Lodge. 

So far all was perfectly right; but Lady Bussell 
was almost startled by the wrong of one part of the 
Kell3"nch Hall plan, when it burst on her, which 
was, Mrs. Clay’s being engaged to go to Bath with 
Sir Walter and Elizabeth, as a most important and 
valuable assistant to the latter in all the business 


PERSUASION. 


45 


before her. Lady Russell was extremely sorry that 
such a measure should have been resorted to at 
allj wondered, grieved, and feared; and the affront 
it contained to Anne in Mrs. Clay’s being of so 
much use, while Anne could be of none, was a very 
sore aggravation. 

Anne herself was become hardened to such af- 
fronts; but she felt the imprudence of the arrange- 
ment quite as keenly as Lady Russell. With a 
great deal of quiet observation, and a knowledge, 
which she often wished less, of her father’s charac- 
ter, she was sensible that results the most serious 
to his family from the intimacy were more than 
possible. She did not imagine that her father had 
at present an idea of the kind. Mrs. Clay had 
freckles, and a projecting tooth, and a clumsy 
wrist, which he was continually making severe 
remarks upon, in her absence; but she was young, 
and certainly altogether well-looking, and pos- 
sessed, in an acute mind and assiduous pleasing man- 
ners, infinitely more dangerous attractions than any 
merely personal might have been. Anne was so im- 
pressed by the degree of their danger that she could 
not excuse herself from trying to make it perceptible 
to her sister. She had little hope of success; 
but Elizabeth, who in the event of such a reverse 
would be so much more to be pitied than herself, 
should never, she thought, have reason to re- 
proach her for giving no warning. 

She spoke, and seemed only to offend. Eliza- 
beth could not conceive how such an absurd suspi- 
cian should occur to her, and indignantly answered 
for each party’s perfectly knowing their situation. 


46 


PERSUASION. 


Mrs. Clay/’ said she, warmly, never forgets 
who she is; and as I am rather better acquainted 
with her sentiments than you can be, I can assure 
3mu that upon the subject of marriage they are par- 
ticularly nice : and that she reprobates all inequal- 
ity of condition and rank more strongly than most 
people. And as to my father, I really should not 
have thought that he, who has kept himself single 
so long for our sakes, need be suspected now. If 
Mrs. Clay were a very beautiful woman, I grant you 
it might be wrong to have her so much with me: 
not that anything in the world, I am sure, would 
induce my father to make a degrading match ; but he 
might be rendered unhappy. But poor Mrs. Clay, 
— who, with all her merits, can never have been 
reckoned tolerably pretty, — I really think poor 
Mrs. Clay may be staying here in perfect safetj’. 
One would imagine you had never heard my father 
speak of her personal misfortunes, though I know 
you must fifty times. That tooth of hers, and 
those freckles! Freckles do not disgust me so 
very much as they do him. I have known a face 
not materially disfigured by a few, but he abomi- 
nates them. You must have heard him notice Mrs. 
Clay’s freckles.” 

“There is hardly any personal defect,” replied 
Anne, “which an agreeable manner might not 
gradually reconcile one to.” 

“I think very differently,” answered Elizabeth, 
shortly; “an agreeable manner may set off hand- 
some features, but can never alter plain ones. 
However, at any rate, as I have a great deal more 
at stake on this point than anybody else can have. 


PERSUASION 


47 


I think it rather unnecessary in you to he advis- 
ing me.’’ 

Anne had done, — glad that it was over, and not 
absolutely hopeless of doing good. Elizabeth, 
though resenting the suspicion, might yet be made 
observant by it. 

The last office of the four carriage horses was to 
draw Sir Walter, Miss Elliot, and Mrs. Clay to 
Bath. The party drove off in very good spirits: 
Sir Walter prepared with condescending hows for 
all the afflicted tenantry and cottagers who might 
have had a hint to show themselves; and Anne 
walked up, at the same time, in a sort of desolate 
tranquillity, to the Lodge, where she was to spend 
the first week. 

Her friend was not in better spirits than herself. 
Lady Russell felt this break-up of the family ex- 
ceedingly. Their respectability was as dear to 
her as her own, and a daily intercourse had be- 
come precious by habit. It was painful to look 
upon their deserted grounds, and still worse to 
anticipate the new hands they were to fall into; 
and to escape the solitariness and the melancholy 
of so altered a village, and be out of the way when 
Admiral and Mrs. Croft first arrived, she had de- 
termined to make her own absence from home 
begin when she must give up Anne. Accordingly, 
their removal was made together, and Anne was 
set down at Uppercross Cottage, in the first stage 
of Lady Russell’s journey. 

Uppercross was a moderate-sized village, which 
a few years back had been completely in the old 
English style; containing only two houses superior 


48 


PERSUASION. 


in appearance to those of the yeomen and laborers, 
— the mansion of the squire, with its high walls, 
great gates, and old trees, substantial and unmod- 
ernized; and the compact, tight parsonage, en- 
closed in its own neat garden, with a vine and a 
pear-tree trained round its casements; but upon 
the marriage of the young squire, it had received 
the improvement of a farm-house elevated into a 
cottage for his residence; and XJppercross Cottage, 
with its veranda, French windows, and other 
prettinesses, was quite as likely to catch the travel- 
ler’s eye, as the more consistent and considerable 
aspect and premises of the Great House, about a 
quarter of a mile farther on. 

Here Anne had often been staying. She knew 
the ways of XJppercross as well as those of Kel- 
lynch. The two families were so continually meet- 
ing, so much in the habit of running in and out of 
each other’s house at all hours, that it was rather 
a surprise to her to find Mary alone; but being 
alone, her being unwell and out of spirits was 
almost a matter of course. Though better endowed 
than the elder sister, Mary had not Anne’s under- 
standing or temper. While well and happy and 
properly attended to, she had great good-humor 
and excellent spirits; hut any indisposition sunk 
her completely. She had no resources for solitude; 
and inheriting a considerable share of the Elliot 
self-importance, was very prone to add to every 
other distress that of fancying herself neglected 
and ill-used. In person, she was inferior to both 
sisters, and had, even in her bloom, only reached 
the dignity of being a fine girl.” She was now 


PERSUASION. 


49 


lying on the faded sofa of the pretty little draw- 
ing-room, the once elegant furniture of which had 
been gradually growing shabby, under the influ- 
ence of four summers and two children; and on 
Anne’s appearing, greeted her with, — 

‘‘ So you are come at last! I began to think I 
should never see you. I am so ill I can hardly 
speak. I have not seen a creature the whole 
morning! ” 

I am sorry to find you unwell,” replied Anne. 
^‘You sent me such a good account of yourself on 
Thursday.” 

Yes, I made the best of it, — I always do; but 
I was very far from well at the time; and I do not 
think I ever was so ill in my life as I have been 
all this morning, — very unfit to be left alone, I 
am sure. Suppose I were to be seized of a sudden 
in some dreadful way, and not able to ring the 
bell ! So Lady Eussell would not get out. I do 
not think she has been in this house three times 
this summer. ” 

Anne said what was proper, and inquired after 
her husband. ^‘Oh, Charles is out shooting. I 
have not seen him since seven o’clock. He would 
go, though I told him how ill I was. He said he 
should not stay out long; but he has never come 
back, and now it is almost one. I assure you I 
have not seen a soul this whole long morning.” 

“ You have had your little boys with you? ” 

Yes, as long as I could bear their noise; but 
they are so unmanageable that they do me more 
harm than good. Little Charles does not mind a 
word I say, and Walter is growing quite as bad.” 

4 


I 


50 


PERSUASION. 


‘‘Well, you will soon be better now,^^ replied 
Anne, cbeerfully. “You know I always cure you 
when I come. How are your neighbors at the 
Great House? ’’ 

“ I can give you no account of them. I have 
not seen one of them to-day, except Mr. Musgrove, 
who just stopped and spoke through the window, 
but without getting off his horse; and though I 
told him how ill I was, not one of them have been 
near me. It did not happen to suit the Miss 
Musgroves, I suppose, and they never put them- 
selves out of their way.” 

“You will see them yet, perhaps, before the 
morning is gone. It is early.” 

“I never want them, I assure you. They talk 
and laugh a great deal too much for me. Oh, 
Anne, I am so very unwell ! It was quite unkind 
of you not to come on Thursday.’’ 

“My dear Mary, recollect what a comfortable 
account you sent me of 3^ourself! Yon wrote in 
the cheerful lest manner, and said you were per- 
fectly well, and in no hurry for me; and that being 
the case, you must be aware that my wish would 
be to remain with Lady Russell to the last; and 
besides what I felt on her account, I have really 
been so busy, have had so much to do, that I could 
not very conveniently have left Kell^mch sooner.” 

“ Hear me! what can you possibly have to do? ” 

“A great many things, I assure you. More 
than I can recollect in a moment; but I can tell 
you some. I have been making a duplicate of the 
catalogue of my father’s books and pictures; I 
have been several times in the garden with Mac- 


PERSUASION. 


51 


kenzie, trying to understand, and make him un- 
derstand, which of Elizabeth’s plants are for Lady 
Eussell; I have had all my own little concerns to 
arrange, books and music to divide, and all my 
trunks to repack, from not having understood in 
time what was intended as to the wagons ; and one 
thing I have had to do, Mary, of a more trying 
nature, — goi^ig to almost every house in the 
parish, as a sort of take-leave. I was told that 
they wished it; hut all these things took up a 
great deal of time.” 

Oh, well; ” and after a moment’s pause, hut 
you have never asked me one word about our 
dinner at the Pooles’ yesterday.” 

‘^Did you go then? I have made no inquiries, 
because I concluded you must have been obliged to 
give up the party.” 

^^Oh, yes, I went. I was very well yesterday; 
nothing at all the matter with me till this morn- 
ing. It would have been strange if I had not 
gone.” 

‘^1 am very glad you were well enough, and I 
hope you had a pleasant party.” 

^‘Nothing remarkable. One always knows be- 
forehand what the dinner will be, and who will be 
there; and it is so very uncomfortable, not having 
a carriage of one’s own. Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove 
took me, and we were so crowded! They are both 
so very large, and take up so much room ; and Mr. 
Musgrove always sits forward. So there was I, 
crowded into the back seat with Henrietta and 
Louisa; and I think it very likely that my illness 
to-day may be owing to it.” 


52 


PERSUASION. 


A little further perseverance in patience and 
forced cheerfulness on Anne’s side produced nearly 
a cure on Mary’s. She could soon sit upright on 
the sofa, and began to hope she might be able to 
leave it by dinner-time. Then forgetting to think 
of it, she was at the other end of the room, beauti- 
fying a nosegay; then she ate her cold meat; and 
then she was well enough to propose a little walk. 

Where shall we go?” said she, when they 
were ready. “ I suppose you will not like to call 
at the Great House before they have been to see 
you? ” 

I have not the smallest objection on that ac- 
count,” replied Anne. “I should never think of 
standing on such ceremony with people I know «!0 
well as Mrs. and the Miss Musgroves.” 

' * Oh, but they ought to call upon you as soon as 
possible; they ought to feel what is due to you as 
m}’- sister. However, we may as well go and sit 
wdth them a little while, and when we have got 
that over, we can enjoy our walk.” 

Anne had always thought such a style of inter- 
course highly imprudent; but she had ceased to 
endeavor to check it, from believing that though 
there were on each side continual subjects of of- 
fence, neither family could now do without it. To 
the Great House accordingly they went, to sit the 
full half-hour in the old-fashioned square parlor, 
with a small carpet and shining floor, to which the 
present daughters of the house were gradually 
giving the proper air of confusion by a grand 
piano-forte and a harp, flower-stands and little 
tables placed in every direction. Oh, could the 


PERSUASION. 


53 


originals of the portraits against the wainscot, — 
could the gentlemen in brown velvet, and the 
ladies in blue satin, have seen what was going on, 
have been conscious of such an overthrow of all 
order and neatness! The portraits themselves 
seemed to he staring in astonishment. 

The Musgroves, like their houses, were in a 
state of alteration, perhaps of improvement. The 
father and mother were in the old English style, 
and the young people in the new. Mr. and Mrs. 
Musgrove were a very good sort of people ; friendly 
and hospitable, not much educated, and not at all 
elegant. Their children had more modern minds 
and manners. There was a numerous family; but 
the only two grown up, excepting Charles, were 
Henrietta and Louisa, young ladies of nineteen 
and twenty, who had brought from a school at 
Exeter all the usual stock of accomplishments, and 
were now, like thousands of other young ladies, 
living to he fashionable, happ}^, and merry. Their 
dress had every advantage, their faces were rather 
pretty, their spirits extremely good, their manners 
unembarrassed and pleasant; they were of conse- 
quence at home, and favorites abroad. Anne 
always contemplated them as some of the happiest 
creatures of her acquaintance; but still, saved as 
we all are, by some comfortable feeling of superi- 
ority, from wishing for the possibility of exchange, 
she would not have given up her own more elegant 
and cultivated mind for all their enjoyments; 
and envied them nothing hut that seemingly per- 
fect good understanding and agreement together, 
that good-humored mutual affection, of which she 


54 


PERSUASION. 


had known so little herself with either of her 
sisters. 

They were received with great cordiality. Noth- 
ing seemed amiss on the side of the Great House 
family, which was generally, as Anne very well 
knew, the least to blame. The half-hour was 
chatted away pleasantly enough ; and she was not 
at all surprised, at the end of it, to have their 
walking party joined by both the Miss Musgroves, 
at Mary’s particular invitation. 


PERSUASION. 


55 


CHAPTER VI. 

Anne had not wanted this visit to TJppercross to 
learn that a removal from one set of people to 
another, though at a distance of only three miles, 
will often include a total change of conversation, 
opinion, and idea. She had never been stajdng 
there before without being struck by it, or with- 
out wishing that other Elliots could have her ad- 
vantage in seeing how unknown or unconsiderod 
there were the affairs which at Kellynch Hall 
were treated as of such general publicity and 
pervading interest; yet with all this experience, 
she believed she must now submit to feel that 
another lesson, in the art of knowing our own 
nothingness beyond our own circle, was become 
necessary for her; for certainly, coming as she did, 
with a heart full of the subject which had been 
completely occupying both houses in Kellynch for 
many weeks, she had expected rather more curi- 
osity and sympathy than she found in the separate, 
but very similar remark of Mr. and Mrs. Mus- 
grove: So, Miss Anne, Sir Walter and your 

sister are gone; and what part of Bath do you 
think they will settle in? and this, without 
much waiting for an answer; or in the young 
ladies’ addition of — hope we shall he in Bath 
in the winter; but remember, papa, if we do go. 


56 


PERSUASION. 


we must be in a good situation, — none of your 
Queen Squares for us! ’’ or in the anxious supple- 
ment from Mary, of — ^^Upon my word, I shall he 
pretty well off, when you are all gone away to be 
happy at Bath! ’’ 

She could only resolve to avoid such self-delu- 
sion in future, and think with heightened grati- 
tude of the extraordinar}’^ blessing of having one 
such truly sympathizing friend as Lady Russell. 

The Mr. Musgroves had their own game to 
guard and to destroy, their own horses, dogs, and 
newspapers to engage them; and the females were 
fully occupied in all the other common subjects 
of housekeeping, neighbors, dress, dancing, and 
music. She acknowledged it to be very fitting 
that every little social commonwealth should dic- 
tate its own matters of discourse, and hoped ere- 
long to become a not unworthy member of the one 
she was now transplanted into. AVith the pros- 
pect of spending at least two months at Uppercross, 
it was highly incumbent on her to clothe her 
imagination, her memory, and all her ideas in as 
much of Uppercross as possible. 

She had no dread of these two months. Mary 
was not so repulsive and unsisterly as Elizabeth, 
nor so inaccessible to all influence of hers ; neither 
was there anything among the other component 
parts of the cottage inimical to comfort. She was 
always on friendly terms w’ith her brother-in-law; 
and in the children, who loved her nearly as well, 
and respected her a great deal more than their 
mother, she had an object of interest, amusement, 
and wholesome exertion. 


PERSUASION. 


57 


Charles Musgrove was civil and agreeable; in 
sense and temper he was undoubtedly superior to 
his wdfe, but not of powers or conversation or 
grace to make the past, as they were connected 
together, at all a dangerous contemplation ; though 
at the same time Anne could believe, with Lady 
Kussell, that a more equal match might have 
greatly improved him, and that a woman of real 
understanding might have given more consequence 
to his character, and more usefulness, rationality, 
and elegance to his habits and pursuits. As it 
was, he did nothing with much zeal but sport; 
and his time was otherwise trifled away, without 
benefit from books, or anything else. He had 
very good spirits, which never seemed much 
affected by his wife^s occasional lowness; bore 
with her unreasonableness sometimes to Anne’s 
admiration; and upon the whole, though there was 
very often a little disagreement, — in which she 
had sometimes more share than she wished, being 
appealed to by both parties, — they might pass for 
a happy couple. They were always perfectly 
agreed in the want of more money, and a strong 
inclination for a handsome present from his father; 
but here, as on most topics, he had the superiority, 
for while Mary thought it a great shame that such 
a present was not made, he always contended for 
his father’s having many other uses for his money, 
and a right to spend it as he liked. 

As to the management of their children, his 
theory was much better than his wife’s, and his 
practice not so bad. I could manage them very 
well, if it were not for Mary’s interference,” was 


58 


PERSUASION. 


what Anne often heard him say, and had a good 
deal of faith in; hut when listening in turn to 
Mary’s reproach of “Charles spoils the children so 
that I cannot get them into any order,” she never 
had the smallest temptation to say, “ Very true.” 

One of the least agreeable circumstances of her 
residence there was her being treated with too 
much confidence by all parties, and being too much 
in the secret of the complaints of each house. 
Known to have some influence with her sister, she 
was continually requested, or at least receiving 
hints to exert it, beyond what was practicable. 
“ I wish you could persuade Mary not to be always 
fancying herself ill,” was Charles’s language; and 
in an unhappy mood thus spoke Mary: “I do 
believe if Charles were to see me dying, he would 
not think there was anything the matter with me. 
I am sure, Anne, if you would, you might persuade 
him that I really am very ill, — a great deal worse 
than I ever own.” 

Mary’s declaration was: “I hate sending the 
children to the Great House, though their grand- 
mamma is always wanting to see them; for she 
humors and indulges them to such a degree, and 
gives them so much trash and sweet things, that 
they are sure to come back sick and cross for the 
rest of the day.” And Mrs. Musgrove took the 
first opportunity of being alone with Anne, to say : 
“ Oh, Miss Anne, I cannot help wishing Mrs. 
Charles had a little of your method with those 
children. They are quite different creatures with 
you! But, to be sure, in general they are so 
spoiled! It is a pity you cannot put your sister in 


PERSUASION. 


59 


the way of raanagiug them. They are as fine 
healthy children as ever were seen, poor little 
dears, without partiality; but Mrs. Charles knows 
no more how they should be treated! Bless me, 
how troublesome they are sometimes! I assure 
you. Miss Anne, it prevents my wishing to see 
them at our house so often as I otherwise should. 
I believe Mrs. Charles is not quite pleased with 
my not inviting them oftener; but you know it is 
very bad to have children with one that one is 
obliged to be checking every moment, — ‘ Don’t 
do this,’ and, ‘ Don’t do that; ’ or that one can 
only keep in tolerable order by more cake than is 
good for them.” 

She had this communication, moreover, from 
Mary: ^‘Mrs. Musgrove thinks all her servants so 
steady that it would be high treason to call it in 
question; but I am sure, without exaggeration, 
that her upper housemaid and laundry-maid, in- 
stead of being in their business, are gadding about 
the village all day long. I meet them wherever I 
go; and, I declare, I never go twice into my 
nursery without seeing something of them. If 
Jemima were not the trustiest, steadiest creature 
in the world, it would be enough to spoil her; for 
she tells me they are always tempting her to take 
a walk with them.” And on Mrs. Musgrove’s 
side it was: I make a rule of never interfering in 
any of my daughter-in-law’s concerns, for I know 
it would not do; but I shall tell j/ou, Miss Anne, 
because you may be able to set things to rights, 
that I have no very good opinion of Mrs. Charles’s 
nursery-maid: I hear strange stories of her; she is 


60 


PERSUASION. 


always upon the gad; and from my own knowledge, 
I can declare, she is such a fine-dressing lady that 
she is enough to ruin any servants she comes near. 
Mrs. Charles quite swears by her, I know; hut I 
just give you this hint, that you may be upon the 
watch; because, if you see anything amiss, you 
need not be afraid of mentioning it.” 

Again: it was Mary’s complaint that Mrs. Mus- 
grove was very apt not to give her the precedence 
that was her due, when they dined at the Great 
House with other families ; and she did not see any 
reason why she was to be considered so much at 
home as to lose her place. And one day, when 
Anne was walking with onlj^ the Miss Musgroves, 
one of them, after talking of rank, people of rank, 
and jealousy of rank, said: have no scruple of 

observing to yow, how nonsensical some persons 
are about their place, because all the world knows 
how easy and indifferent you are about it; but I 
wish anybody could give Mary a hint that it 
would be a great deal better if she were not so very 
tenacious; especially, if she would not be always 
putting herself forward to take place of mamma. 
Nobody doubts her right to have precedence of 
mamma, but it would be more becoming in her 
not to be always insisting on it. It is not that 
mamma cares about it the least in the world, but 
I know it is taken notice of by many persons.” 

How was Anne to set all these matters to rights? 
She could do little more than listen patiently, 
soften every grievance, and excuse each to the 
other; give them all hints of the forbearance neces- 
sary between such near neighbors, and make those 


PERSUASION. 


61 


hints broadest which were meant for her sister’s 
benefit. 

In all other respects her visit began and pro- 
ceeded very well. Her own spirits improved by 
change of place and subject, by being removed 
three miles from Kellynchj Mary’s ailments les- 
sened by having a constant companion j and their 
daily intercourse with the other family, since there 
was neither superior affection, confidence, nor em- 
ployment in the cottage to be interrupted by it, 
was rather an advantage. It was certainly carried 
nearly as far as possible, for they met every morn- 
ing, and hardly ever spent an evening asunder; 
but she believed they should not have done so well 
without the sight of Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove’s 
respectable forms in the usual places, or without 
the talking, laughing, and singing of their 
daughters. 

She played a great deal better than either of the 
Miss Musgroves; but having no voice, no know- 
ledge of the harp, and no fond parents to sit by and 
fancy themselves delighted, her performance was 
little thought of, only out of civility, or to refresh 
the others, as she was well aware. She knew 
that when she played she was giving pleasure only 
to herself; but this was no new sensation. Ex- 
cepting one short period of her life, she had never, 
since the age of fourteen, never since the loss of 
her dear mother, known the happiness of being 
listened to, or encouraged by any just appreciation 
or real taste. In music she had been always used 
to feel alone in the world; and Mr. and Mrs. Mus- 
grove’s fond partiality for their own daughters’ 


62 


PERSUASION. 


performance, and total indifference to any other 
person’s gave her much more pleasure for their 
sakes than mortification for her own. 

The party at the Great House was sometimes 
increased by other company. The neighborhood 
was not large, hut the Musgroves were visited 
by everybody, and had more dinner-parties and 
more callers, more visitors by invitation and by 
chance, than any other family. They were more 
completely popular. 

The girls were wild for dancing; and the even- 
ings ended, occasionally, in an unpremeditated 
little hall. There was a family of cousins within 
a walk of Uppercross, in less affluent circumstan- 
ces, who depended on the Musgroves for all their 
pleasures. They would come at any time, and 
help play at anything, or dance anj^where; and 
Anne, very much preferring the office of musician 
to a more active post, played country dances to 
them by the hour together; a kindness which, 
always recommended her musical powers to the 
notice of Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove more than any- 
thing else, and often drew this compliment, — 
“ Well done, Miss Anne! verj^ well done, indeed! 
Lord bless me! how those little fingers of yours 
fly about! ” 

So passed the first three weeks. Michaelmas 
came; and now Anne’s heart must be in Kellyncli 
again. A beloved home made over to others ; all 
the precious rooms and furniture, groves and pros- 
pects, beginning to own other eyes and other 
limbs! She could not think of much else on the 
29th of September; and she had this sympathetic 


PERSUASION. 


63 


touch in the evening from Mary, who on having 
occasion to note down the day of the month, ex- 
claimed: ‘^Dear me! is not this the daj’- the Crofts 
were to come to Kellynch? I am glad I did not 
think of it before. How low it makes me! 

The Crofts took possession with true naval alert- 
ness, and were to he visited. Mary deplored the 
necessity for herself, — “ Nobody knew how much 
she should suffer; she should put it off as long 
as she could,’’ — but was not easy till she had talked 
Charles into driving her over on an early day; and 
■was in a very animated, comfortable state of ima- 
ginary agitation when she came back. Anne had 
very sincerely rejoiced in there being no means 
of her going. She wished, however, to see the 
Crofts, and was glad to be within when the visit 
was returned. They came : the master of the house 
was not at home, but the two sisters were together; 
and as it chanced that Mrs. Croft fell to the share 
of Anne, while the Admiral sat by Mary, and 
made himself very agreeable by his good-humored 
notice of her little bo3^s, she was well able to 
watch for a likeness, and if it failed her in the 
features, to catch it in the voice, or the turn of 
sentiment and expression. 

Mrs. Croft, though neither tall nor fat, had a 
squareness, uprightness, and vigor of form, v^hich 
gave importance to her person. She had bright 
dark eyes, good teeth, and altogether an agreeable 
face ; though her reddened and weather-beaten com- 
plexion, the consequence of her having been almost 
as much at sea as her husband, made her seem to 
have lived some years longer in the world than her 


64 


PERSUASION. 


real eight-and-thirty. Her manners were open, 
easy, and decided, like one wlio had no distrust of 
herself, and no doubts of what to do; without any 
approach to coarseness, however, or any want of 
good-humor. Anne gave her credit, indeed, for 
feelings of great consideration towards herself in 
all that related to Kellynch, and it pleased her; 
especially, as she had satisfied herself in the very 
first half minute, in the instant even of introduc- 
tion, that there was not the smallest symptom of 
any knowledge or suspicion on Mrs. Croft’s side to 
give a bias of any sort. She was quite easy on 
that head, and consequently full of strength and 
courage, till for a moment electrified by Mrs. 
Croft’s suddenly saying, — 

‘ ‘ It was you, and not your sister, I find, that 
my brother had the pleasure of being acquainted 
with, when he was in this country.” 

Anne hoped she had outlived the age of blush- 
ing; but the age of emotion she certainly had 
not. 

Perhaps you may not have heard that he is 
married?” added Mrs. Croft. 

She could now answer as she ought; and was 
happy to feel, when Mrs. Croft’s next words ex- 
plained it to be Mr. Wentworth of whom she 
spoke, that she had said nothing which might 
not do for either brother. She immediately felt 
how reasonable it was that Mrs. Croft should be 
thinking and speaking of Edward, and not of 
Frederick; and with shame at her own forgetful- 
ness, applied herself to the knowledge of their for- 
mer neighbor’s present state with proper interest. 


PERSUASION. 


65 


The rest was all tranquillity; till, just as they 
were moving, she heard the Admiral say to 
Mary, — 

^^We are expecting a brother of Mrs. Croft’s 
here soon; I dare say you know him by name.” 

He was cut short by the eager attacks of the 
little boys clinging to him like an old friend, and 
declaring he should not go; and being too much 
engrossed by proposals of carrying them away in 
his coat-pocket, etc. to have another moment for 
finishing or recollecting what he had begun, Anne 
was left to persuade herself, as well as she could, 
that the same brother must still be in question. 
She could not, however, reach such a degree of 
certainty as not to be anxious to hear whether 
anything had been said on the subject at the other 
house, where the Crofts had previously been 
calling. 

The folks of Great House were to spend the 
evening of this day at the Cottage ; and it being 
now too late in the year for such visits to be made 
on foot, the coach was beginning to be listened 
for, when the youngest Miss Musgrove walked in. 
That she was coming to apologize, and that they 
should have to spend the evening by themselves, 
was the first black idea; and Mary was quite 
ready to be affronted, when Louisa made all right 
by saying that she only came on foot, to leave 
more room for the harp, which was bringing in 
the carriage. 

^^And I will tell you our reason,” she added, 
^^and all about it. I am come on to give you 
notice that papa and mamma are out of spirits 


66 


PERSUASION. 


this evening, especially mamma; she is thinking so 
much of poor Kichard! And we agreed it would he 
best to have the harp, for it seems to amuse her more 
than the piano-forte. I will tell you why she is 
out of spirits. When the Crofts called this morn- 
ing (they called here afterwards, did not they?), 
they happened to say that her brother, Captain 
Wentworth, is just returned to England, or paid 
off, or something, and is coming to see them al- 
most directly; and most unluckily it came into 
mamma’s head, when they were gone, that Went- 
worth, or something very like it, was the name of 
poor Eichard’s captain at one time, — I do not 
know when or where, but a great while before he 
died, poor fellow! And upon looking over his 
letters and things, she found it was so, and is 
perfectly sure that this must be the very man, and 
her head is quite full of it and of poor Richard! 
So we must all be as merry as we can, that she 
may not be dwelling upon such gloomy things.” 

The real circumstances of this pathetic piece of 
family history were, that the Musgroves had had 
the ill* fortune of a very troublesome, hopeless 
son, and the good fortune to lose him before he 
reached his twentieth year; that he had been sent 
to sea, because he was stupid and unmanageable 
on shore; that he had been very little cared for 
at any time by his family, though quite as much 
as he deserved; seldom heard of, and scarcely at 
all regretted, when the intelligence of his death 
abroad had worked its way to Uppercross, two 
years before. 

He had, in fact, though his sisters were now do- 


PERSUASION. 


67 


ing all they could for him, by calling him <^poor 
Richard,” been nothing better than a thick-headed, 
.unfeeling, unprofitable Dick Musgrove, who had 
never done anything to entitle himself to more 
than the abbreviation of his name, living or dead. 

He had been several years at sea, and had, in 
the course of those removals to which all midship- 
men are liable, and especially such midshipmen 
as every captain wishes to get rid of, been six 
months on board Captain Frederick Wentworth’s 
frigate, the Laconia; and from the Laconia he 
had, under the influence .of his captain, written 
the only two letters which his father and mother 
had ever received from him during the whole of 
his absence; that is to say, the only two disinter- 
ested letters, — all the rest had been mere appli- 
cations for money. 

In each letter he had spoken well of his captain ; 
but yet, so little were they in the habit of attend- 
ing to such matters, so unobservant and incurious 
were they as to the names of men or ships, that it 
had made scarcely any impression at the time; and 
that Mrs. Musgrove should have been suddenly 
struck, this very day, with a recollection of the name 
of Wentworth, as connected with her son, seemed 
one of those extraordinary bursts of mind which do 
sometimes occur. 

She had gone to her letters, and found it all as 
she supposed; and the re-perusal of these letters, 
after so long an interval, her poor son gone for- 
ever, and all the strength of his faults forgotten, 
had affected her spirits exceedingly, and thrown 
her into greater grief for him than she had known 


68 


PERSUASION. 


on first hearing of his death. Mr. Musgrove was, 
in a lesser degree, affected likewise; and when 
they reached the cottage, they were evidently in 
want, first, of being listened to anew on this 
subject, and afterwards, of all the relief which 
cheerful companions could give. 

To hear them talking so much of Captain Went- 
worth, repeating his name so often, puzzling over 
past years, and at last ascertaining that it might, 
that it probably would, turn out to be the very 
same Captain Wentworth whom they recollected 
meeting once or twice after their coming back 
from Clifton, — a very fine young man, but they 
could not say whether it was seven or eight years 
ago, — was a new sort of trial to Anne’s nerves. 
She found, however, that it was one to which she 
must inure herself. Since he actually was ex- 
pected in the country, she must teach herself to be 
insensible on such points. And not only did it 
appear that he was expected, and speedily; but 
the Musgroves, in their warm gratitude for the 
kindness he had shown poor Dick, and ver}’^ high 
respect for his character, stamped as it was by poor 
Dick’s having been six months under his care, 
and mentioning him in strong though not per- 
fectly well-spelt praise, as ^^a fine dashing felow, 
only two perticular about the schoolmaster,” were 
bent on introducing themselves, and seeking his 
acquaintance, as soon as they could hear of his 
arrival. 

The resolution of doing so helped to form the 
comfort of their evening. 


PERSUASION. 


69 


CHAPTER VII. 

A VERY few days more, and Captain Wentworth 
was known to be at Kellynch, and Mr. Musgrove 
had called on him, and come back warm in his 
praise; and he was engaged with the Crofts to 
dine at Uppercross by the end of another week. 
It had been a great disappointment to Mr. Mus- 
grove to find that no earlier day could be fixed, 
so impatient was he to show his gratitude, by 
seeing Captain Wentworth under his own roof, 
and welcoming him to all that was strongest and 
best in his cellars. But a week must pass, only 
a week, in Anne’s reckoning, and then, she sup- 
posed, they must meet; and soon she began to 
wish that she could feel secure even for a week. 

Captain Wentworth made a very early return 
to Mr. Musgrove’s civility, and she was all but 
calling there in the same half hour! She and 
Marj'- were actually setting forward for the Great 
House, where, as she afterwards learned, they 
must inevitably have found him, when they were 
stopped by the eldest boy’s being at that moment 
brought home in consequence of a bad fall. The 
child’s situation put the visit entirely aside ; but 
she could not hear of her escape with indifference, 
even in the midst of the serious anxiety which 
they afterwards felt on his account. 


70 


PERSUASION. 


His collar-bone was found to be dislocated, and 
such injury received in the back as roused the 
most alarming ideas. It was an afternoon of dis- 
tress, and Anne had everything to do at once, — 
the apothecary to send for, the father to have 
pursued and informed, the mother to support and 
keep from hj^sterics, the servants to control, the 
youngest child to banish, and the poor suffering 
one to attend and soothe ; besides sending, as soon as 
she recollected it, proper notice to the other house, 
which brought her an accession rather of frigh- 
tened inquiring companions than of very useful 
assistants. 

Her brother's return was the first comfort, — he 
could take best care of his wife; and the second 
blessing was the arrival of the apothecary. Till 
he came and had examined the child, their appre- 
hensions were the worst for being vague, — they 
suspected great injury, but knew not where; but 
now the collar-bone was soon replaced, and though 
Mr. Robinson felt and felt, and rubbed, and looked 
grave, and spoke low words both to the father and 
the aunt, still they were all to hope the best, and 
to be able to part and eat their dinner in tolerable 
ease of mind; and then it was, just before they 
parted, that the two young aunts were able so far 
to digress from their ne^jliew’s state as to give the 
information of Captain Wentworth’s visit; staying 
five minutes behind their father and mother, to 
endeavor to express how perfectly delighted they 
were with him, how much handsomer, how infi- 
nitely more agreeable they thought him than any 
individual among their male acquaintance who 


PERSUASION. 


71 


had been at all a favorite before; how glad they 
bad been to hear papa invite him to stay to dinner; 
bow sorry when be said it was quite out of bis 
power; and how glad again, when he bad promised 
to reply to papa and mamma’s farther pressing 
invitations to come and dine with them on the 
morrow, actually on the morrow! And he had 
promised it in so pleasant a manner, as if he felt 
all the motive of their attention just as he ought! 
And, in short, he had looked and said everything 
with such exquisite grace that they could assure 
them all, their heads were both turned by him! 
And off they ran, quite as full of glee as of love, 
and apparently more full of Captain Wentworth 
than of little Charles. 

The same story and the same raptures were 
repeated, when the two girls came with their fa- 
ther, through the gloom of the evening, to make 
inquiries; and Mr. Musgrove, no longer under the 
first uneasiness about his heir, could add his confir- 
mation and praise, and hope there would be now 
no occasion for putting Captain Wentworth off, 
and only be sorry to think that the Cottage party, 
probably, would not like to leave the little boy, 
to give him the meeting. ‘‘Oh, no; as to leaving 
the little boy,” both father and mother were in much 
too strong and recent alarm to bear the thought; 
and Anne, in the joy of the escape, could not 
help adding her warm protestations to theirs. 

Charles Musgrove, indeed, afterwards showed 
more of inclination: “the child was going on so 
well, and he wished so much to be introduced to 
Captain Wentworth, that, perhaps, he might join 


72 


PERSUASION. 


them in the evening; he would not dine from 
home, hut he might walk in for half an hour.’’ 
But in this he was eagerly opposed by his wife, 
with, — ^^Oh, no, indeed, Charles, I cannot bear 
to have you go avva3^ Only think, if anything 
should happen.” 

The child had a good night, and was going on 
well the next day. It must be a work of time to 
ascertain that no injury had been done to the spine; 
but Mr. Bobinson found nothing to increase alarm, 
and Charles Musgrove began consequently to feel 
no necessity for longer confinement. The child 
was to be kept in bed, and amused as quietly as 
possible; but what was there for a father to do? 
This was quite a female case, and it would be 
highly absurd in him, wdio could be of no -use at 
home, to shut himself up. His father very much 
wished him to meet Captain Wentworth, and there 
being no sufficient reason against it, he ought to 
go; and it ended in his making a bold public 
declaration, when he came in from shooting, of his 
meaning to dress directly, and dine at the other 
house. 

Nothing can be going on better than the child, ” 
said he; so I told my father just now that I 
would come, and he thought me quite right. 
Your sister being with you, my love, I have no 
scruple at all. You would not like to leave him 
yourself, but you see I can be of no use. Anne 
will send for me if anything is the matter.” 

Husbands and wives generally understand when 
opposition will be vain. Mary knew, from 
Charles’s manner of speaking, that he was quite 


PERSUASION. 


73 


determined on going, and that it would be of no 
use to tease him. She said nothing, therefore, till 
he was out of the room ; but as soon as there was 
only Anne to hear, — 

So you and I are to he left to shift by our- 
selves with this poor sick child; and not a crea- 
ture coming near us all the evening! T knew 
how it would be. This is always my luck. If 
there is anything disagreeable going on, men are 
always sure to get out of it, and Charles is as bad 
as any of them. Very unfeeling! I must say it 
is very unfeeling of him to be running away from 
his poor little boy; talks of his being going on so 
well. How does he know that he is going on -well, 
or that there may not he a sudden change half an 
hour hence? I did not think Charles would have 
been so unfeeling. So, here he is to go away and 
enjoy himself, and because I am the poor mother, 
I am not to be allowed to stir ; and yet, I am sure, 
I am more unfit than anybody else to be about the 
child. My being the mother is the very reason 
why my feelings should not be tried. I am not at 
all equal to it. You saw how hysterical I was 
yesterday.’’ 

‘‘But that was only the effect of the suddenness 
of your alarm, — of the shock. You will not be 
hysterical again. I dare say we shall have noth- 
ing to distress us. I perfectly understand Mr. 
Robinson’s directions, and have no fears; and 
indeed, Mary, I cannot wonder at your husband. 
Nursing does not belong to a man, it is not his 
province. A sick child is always the mother’s 
property; her own feelings generally make it so.” 


74 


PERSUASION. 


I hope I am as fond of my child as any mother, 
but I do not know that I am of any more use in 
the sick-room than Charles, for I cannot be always 
scolding and teasing a poor child when it is ill; 
and you saw, this morning, that if I told him to 
keep quiet, he was sure to begin kicking about. I 
have not nerves for the sort of thing.’’ 

‘ • But could you be comfortable yourself, to be 
spending the whole evening away from the poor 
boy?” 

‘‘ Yes; you see his papa can, and why should not 
I? Jemima is so careful. And she could send 
us word every hour how he was. I really think 
Charles might as well have told his father we 
would all come. I am not more alarmed about 
little Charles now than he is. I was dreadfully 
alarmed yesterday, but the case is very different 
to-day.” 

“Well, if you do not think it too late to give 
notice for yourself, suppose you were to go, as 
well as your husband. Leave little Charles to my 
care. Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove cannot think it 
wrong, while I remain with him.” 

“ Are you serious? ” cried Mar}?-, her eyes bright- 
ening. “'Dear me! that’s a very good thought ; 
very good, indeed. To be sure, I may just as well 
go as not, for I am of no use at home, — am I? 
and it only harasses me. You, who have not a 
mother’s feelings, are a great deal the properest 
person. You can make little Charles do anything; 
he always minds you at a word. It will be 
a great deal better than leaving him with only 
Jemina. Oh, I will certainly go; I am sure I 


PERSUASION. 


75 


ought if I can, quite as much as Charles, for they 
want me excessively to he acquainted with Captain 
Wentworth, and I know you do not mind being 
left alone. An excellent thought of yours, indeed, 
Anne! I will go and tell Charles, and get readj^ 
directly. You can send for us, you know, at a 
moment’s notice, if anything is the matter; but I 
dare say there will be nothing to alarm you. I 
should not go, you may be sure, if I did not feel 
quite at ease about my dear child.” 

The next moment she was tapping at her hus- 
band’s dressing-room door; and as Anne followed 
her upstairs, she was in time for the whole conver- 
sation, which began with Mary’s saying, in a tone 
of great exultation, — 

I mean to go with you, Charles, for I am of no 
more use at home than you are. If I were to shut 
myself up forever with the child, I should not be 
able to persuade him to do anything he did not 
like. Anne will stay: Anne undertakes to stay 
at home and take care of him. It is Anne’s own 
proposal, and so I shall go with you, which will 
be a great deal better, for T have not dined at the 
other house since Tuesdaj^” 

This is very kind of Anne, ” was her husband’s 
answer, and I should be very glad to have you go ; 
but it seems rather hard that she should be left at 
home by herself to nurse our sick child.” 

Anne was now at hand to take up her own cause ; 
and the sincerity of her manner being soon suffi- 
cient to convince him, where conviction was at 
least very agreeable, he had no farther scruples 
as to her being left to dine alone, though he still 


76 


PERSUASION. 


wanted her to join them in the evening, when the 
child might he at rest for the night, and kindly 
urged her to let him come and fetch her; but she 
was quite unpersuadable; and this being the case, 
she had erelong the pleasure of seeing them set 
off together in high spirits. They were gone, she 
hoped, to he happy, however oddly constructed 
such happiness might seem; as for herself, she 
was left with as many sensations of comfort as 
were, perhaps, ever likely to he hers. She knew 
herself to he of the first utility to the child; and 
what was it to her if Frederick Wentworth were 
only half a mile distant, making himself agreeable 
to others! 

She would have liked to know how he felt as to 
a meeting. Perhaps indifferent, in indifference 
could exist under such circumstances. He must 
he either indifferent or unwilling. Had he wished 
ever to see her again, he need not have waited till 
this time; he would have done what she could not 
hut believe that in his place she should have done 
long ago, when events had been early giving him 
the independence which alone had been wanting. 

Her brother and sister came hack delighted with 
their new acquaintance, and their visit in general. 
There had been music, singing, talking, laughing, 
all that was most agreeable; charming manners in 
Captain Wentworth, no shjmess or reserve; they 
seemed all to know each other perfectly, and he 
was coming the very next morning to shoot with 
Charles. He was to come to breakfast, but not at 
the Cottage, though that had been proposed at first ; 
but then he had been pressed to come to the Great 


PERSUASION. 


77 


House instead, and he seemed afraid of being in 
Mrs. Charles Musgrove’s way, on account of the 
child; and therefore, somehow, they hardly knew 
how, it ended in Charleses being to meet him to 
breakfast at his father’s. 

Anne understood it. He wished to avoid see- 
ing her. He had inquired after her, she found, 
slightly, as might suit a former slight acquaint- 
ance, seeming to acknowledge such as she had 
acknowledged, actuated, perhaps, by the same 
view of escaping introduction when they were to 
meet. 

The morning hours at the Cottage were always 
later than those of the other house; and on the 
morrow the difference was so great that Mary and 
Anne were not more than beginning breakfast 
when Charles came in to say that they were just 
setting off, that he was come for his dogs, that his 
sisters were following with Captain Wentworth, 
his sisters meaning to visit Mary and the child, 
and Captain Wentworth proposing also to wait on 
her for a few minutes, if not inconvenient; and 
though Charles had answered for the child’s being 
in no such state as could make it inconvenient. Cap- 
tain Wentworth would not he satisfied without his 
running on to give notice. 

Mary, very much gratified by this attention, was 
delighted to receive him; while a thousand feel- 
ings rushed on Anne, of which this was the most 
consoling, that it would soon be over. And it was 
soon over. In two minutes after Charles’s prepara- 
tion, the others appeared; they were in the drawing- 
room. Her eye half met Captain Wentworth’s; a 


78 


PEliSUASION. 


bow, a courtesy passed; she heard his voice, — he 
talked to Mary; said all that was right; said some- 
thing to the Miss Musgroves, enough to mark an 
easy footing; the room seemed full, — full of per- 
sons and voices: but a few minutes ended it. 
Charles showed himself at the window, all was 
ready, their visitor had bowed and was gone ; the 
Miss Musgroves were gone too, suddenly resolv- 
ing to walk to the end of the village with the 
sportsmen; the room was cleared, and Anne might 
finish her breakfast as she could. 

‘‘It is over! it is over! ’’ she repeated to herself 
again and again, in nervous gratitude. “The 
worst is over ! ” 

Mary talked, but she could not attend. She ]iad 
seen him. They had met. They had been once 
more in the same room. 

Soon, however, she began to reason with herself, 
and try to be feeling less. Eight years, almost 
eight years, had passed since all had been given 
up. How absurd to be resuming the agitation 
which such an interval had banished into dis- 
tance and indistinctness! What might not eight 
years do? Events of every description, changes, 
alienations, removals, — all, all must be comprised 
in it; and oblivion of the past, — how natural, how 
certain too! It included nearly a third part of 
her own life. 

Alas! with all her reasonings, she found that 
to retentive feelings eight years may be little 
more than nothing. 

Now, how were his sentiments to be read? Was 
this like wishing to avoid her? And the next 


PERSUASION. 


79 


moment she was hating herself for the folly which 
asked the question. 

On one other question, which perhaps her ut- 
most wisdom might not have prevented, she was 
soon spared all suspense; for after the Miss Mus- 
groves had returned and finished their visit at the 
Cottage, she had this spontaneous information from 
Mary : — 

“Captain Wentworth is not very gallant by 
you, Anne, though he was so attentive to me. 
Henrietta asked him what he thought of you, 
when they went away; and he said, ‘You were 
so altered he should not have known you again.’ ” 

Mary had no feelings to make her respect her 
sister’s in a common way ; but she was perfectly un- 
suspicious of inflicting any peculiar wound. 

“ Altered beyond his knowledge! ” Anne fully 
submitted, in silent, deep mortification. Doubt- 
less it was so; and she could take no revenge, for 
he was not altered, or not for the worse. She had 
already acknowledged it to herself, and she could 
not think differently, let him think of her as he 
would. No; the years which had destroyed her 
youth and bloom had only given him a more glow- 
ing, manly, open look, in no respect lessening his 
personal advantages. She had seen the same Fred- 
erick Wentworth. 

“So altered that he should not have known her 
aorain!” These were words which could not but 

O 

dwell with her. Yet she soon began to rejoice 
that she had heard them. They were of sobering 
tendency; they allayed agitation; they composed, 
and consequently must make her happier. 


80 


PERSUASION. 


Frederick Wentworth had used such words, or 
something like them, but without an idea that 
they would be carried round to her. He had 
thought her wretchedly altered, and, in the first 
moment of appeal, had spoken as he felt. He had 
not forgiven Anne Elliot. She had used him ill ; 
deserted and disappointed him ; and worse, she had 
shown a feebleness of character in doing so, which 
his own decided, confident temper could not en- 
dure. She had given him up to oblige others. 
It had been the effect of over-persuasion; it had 
been weakness and timidity. 

He had been most warmly attached to her, and 
had never seen a woman since whom he thought 
her equal ; but except from some natural sensation 
of curiosity, he had no desire of meeting her again. 
Her power with him was gone forever. 

It was now his object to marry. He was rich, 
and being turned on shore, fully intended to set- 
tle as soon as he could be properly tempted; actu- 
ally looking round, ready to fall in love with all 
the speed which a clear head and quick taste could 
• allow. He had a heart for either of the Miss 
Musgroves, if they could catch it; a heart, in 
short, for any pleasing young woman who came in 
his way, excepting Anne Elliot. This was his 
only secret exception, when he said to his sister, 
in answer to her suppositions, — 

Yes, here I am, Sophia, quite ready to make a 
foolish match. Anybody between fifteen and thirty 
may have me for asking. A little beauty, and a 
few smiles, and a few compliments to the navy, and 
I am a lost man. Should not this be enough for a 


PERSUASION. 


81 


sailor, who has had no society among women to 
make him nice?’’ 

He said it, she knew, to be contradicted. His 
bright proud eye spoke the happy conviction that 
he was nice; and Anne Elliot was not out of his 
thoughts, when he more seriously described the 
woman he should wish to meet with. “A strong 
mind, with sweetness of manner,” made the first 
and the last of the description. 

This is the woman I want,” said he. ^^Some- 
thing a little inferior I shall of course put up with, 
but it must not be much. If I am a fool, I shall 
be a fool indeed, for I have thought on the subject 
more than most men.” 


6 


82 


PERSUASION. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

From this time Captain Wentworth and Anne 
Elliot were repeatedly in the same circle. They 
were soon dining in company together at Mr. Miis- 
grove’s, for the little boy’s state could no longer 
supply his aunt with a pretence for absenting her- 
self; and this was but the beginning of other 
dinings and other meetings. 

Whether former feelings were to be renewed 
must be brought to the proof; former times must 
undoubtedly be brought to the recollection of each; 
they could not but be reverted to; the j^ear of their 
engagement could not but be named by him, in 
the little narratives or descriptions which conver- 
sation called forth. His profession qualified him, 
his disposition led him to talk; and That was 
in the year six;” ‘^That happened before I went 
to sea, in the jmar six,” occurred in the course of 
the first evening they spent together; and though 
his voice did not falter, and though she had no 
reason to suppose his eye wandering towards her 
while he spoke, Anne felt the utter impossibility, 
from her knowledge of his mind, that he could be 
unvisited by remembrance any more than herself. 
There must be the same immediate association of 
thought, though she was very far from conceiving 
it to be of equal pain. 


PERSUASION. 


83 


They had no conversation together, no inter- 
course hut what the commonest civility required. 
Once so much to each other, now nothing! There 
had been a time, when of all the large party now 
filling the drawing-room at Uppercross, they would 
have found it most difficult to cease to speak to 
one another. With the exception, perhaps, of 
Admiral and Mrs. Croft, who seemed particularly 
attached and happy (Anne could allow no other 
exception, even among the married couples), there 
could-xhave been no two hearts so open, no tastes 
so similar, no feelings so in unison, no counte- 
nances so beloved. Now they were as strangers; 
nay, worse than strangers, for they could never 
become acquainted. It was a perpetual estrange- 
ment. 

When he talked, she heard the same voice, and 
discerned the same mind. Tliere was a very gen- 
eral ignorance of all naval matters throughout the 
part)^' and he was very much questioned, and 
especially by the two Miss Musgroves, who seemed 
hardly to have any eyes but for him, as to the 
manner of living on board, daily regulations, food, 
hours, etc. ; and their surprise at his accounts, at 
learning the degree of accommodation and arrange- 
ment which was practicable, drew from him some 
pleasant ridicule, which reminded Anne of the 
early days when she too had been ignorant, and 
she too had been accused of supposing sailors to 
be living on board without anything to eat, or any 
cook to dress it if there were, or any servant to 
wait, or aiij’- knife and fork to use. 

From thus listening and thinking, she was 


84 


PERSUASION. 


roused by a whisper of Mrs. Miisgrove’s, who, 
overcome by fond regrets, could not help saying, — 
Ah! Miss Anne, if it had pleased Heaven to 
spare my poor son, I dare say he would have been 
just such another by this time.’’ 

Anne suppressed a smile, and listened kindly, 
while Mrs. Musgrove relieved her heart a little 
morej and for a few minutes, therefore, could not 
keep pace with the conversation of the others. 
When she could let her attention take its natural 
course again, she found the Miss Musgroves just 
fetching the navy list, — their own navy list, the 
first that had ever been at Uppercross, — and sit- 
ting down together to pore over it, with the pro- 
fessed view of finding out the ships which Captain 
Wentworth had commanded. 

“Your first was the Asp, I remember; we will 
look for the Asp.” 

“You will not find her there. Quite worn out 
and broken up. I was the last man who com- 
manded her. Hardly fit for service then. Re- 
ported fit for home service for a year or two, — 
and so I was sent off to the West Indies.” 

The girls looked all amazement. 

“The Admiralty,” he continued, “entertain 
themselves, now and then, with sending a few 
hundred men to sea in a ship not fit to be em- 
ployed. But they have a great many to provide 
for; and among the thousands that may just as well 
go to the bottom as not, it is impossible for them 
to distinguish the very set who may be least 
missed.” 

“Phoo! phoo! ” cried the Admiral, “what 


PERSUASION. 


85 


stuff these young fellows talk! Never was a better 
sloop than the Asp in her day; for an old-built 
sloop, you would not see her equal. Lucky fellow 
to get her! He knows there must have been 
twenty better men than himself applying for her 
at the same time. Lucky fellow to get anything 
so soon, with no more interest than his.” 

I felt my luck, Admiral, I assure you,’’ re- 
plied Captain Wentworth, seriously. I was as 
well satisfied with my appointment as you can de- 
sire. It was a great object with me, at that time, 
to be at sea, — a very great object. I wanted to 
be doing something.” 

^^To be sure, you did. Wbat should a young 
fellow, like you, do ashore for half a year together? 
If a man has not a wife, he soon wants to be afloat 
again.” 

‘‘But, Captain Wentworth,” cried Louisa, “how 
vexed you must have been when you came to the 
Asp, to see what an old thing they had given 
you.” 

“ I knew pretty well what she was before that 
day,” said he, smiling. “I had no more discov- 
eries to make than you would have as to the fash- 
ion and strength of any old pelisse, which you had 
seen lent about among half your acquaintance ever 
since you could remember, and which, at last, on 
some very wet day, is lent to yourself. Ah ! she 
was a dear old Asp to me. She did all that I 
wanted. I knew she would. I knew that we 
should either go to the bottom together, or that 
she would be the making of me; and I never had 
two days of foul weather all the time I was at sea 


86 


PERSUASION. 


ill her; and after taking privateers enough to be 
very entertaining, I had the good luck, in my pas- 
sage home the next autumn, to fall in with the 
very French frigate I wanted. I brought her into 
Plymouth; and here was another instance of luck. 
We had not been six hours in the Sound, when a 
gale came on, which lasted four days and nights, 
and which would have done for poor old Asp in 
half the time; our touch with the Great Nation 
not having much improved our condition. Four- 
and-twenty hours later, and I should only have 
been a gallant Captain Wentworth, in a small para- 
graph at one corner of the newspapers; and being 
lost in only a sloop, nobody would have thought 
about me.’’ 

Anne’s shudderings were to herself alone; but 
the Miss Musgroves could be as open as they were 
sincere, in their exclamations of pity and horror. 

“And so then, I suppose,” said Mrs. Mus- 
grove, in a low voice, as if thinking aloud, — “so 
then he went away to the Laconia, and there he 
met with our poor boy. — Charles, my dear,” 
beckoning him to her, “do ask Captain Went- 
worth where it was he first met with your poor 
brother. I always forget.” 

“ It was at Gibraltar, mother, I know. Dick 
had been left ill at Gibraltar, with a recommenda- 
tion from his former captain to Captain Went- 
worth.” 

“Oh! but, Charles, tell Captain Wentworth 
he need not be afraid of mentioning poor Dick 
before me, for it would be rather a pleasure to hear 
him talked of by such a good friend.” 


PERSUASION. 


87 


Charles, being somewhat more mindful of the 
probabilities of the case, only nodded in reply, and 
walked away. 

The girls were now hunting for the Laconia; 
and Captain Wentworth could not deny himself 
the pleasure of taking the precious volume into 
his own hands to save them the trouble, and once 
more read aloud the little statement of her name 
and rate, and present non-commissioned class, ob- 
serving over it that she too had been one of the 
best friends man ev^r had. 

Ah, those were pleasant days when I had the 
Laconia! How fast I made money in her! A 
friend of mine and I had such a lovely cruise to- 
gether off the Western Islands, — poor Harville, 
sister ! You know how much he wanted money, — 
worse than myself. He had a wife. Excellent 
fellow! I shall never forget his happiness. He 
felt it all so much for her sake. I wished for him 
again the next summer, when I had still the same 
luck in the Mediterranean.’’ 

‘^And I am sure, sir,” said Mrs. Musgrove, 
^‘it was a lucky day for us, when you were put 
captain into that ship. We shall never forget 
what you did.” 

Her feelings made her speak low; and Captain 
Wentworth, hearing only in part, and probably 
not having Dick Musgrove at all near his 
thoughts, looked rather in suspense, and as if 
waiting for more. 

‘‘My brother,” whispered one of the girls; 
“Mamma is thinking of poor E-ichard.” 

“Poor dear fellow! ” continued Mrs. Musgrove; 


88 


PERSUASION. 


was grown so steadj’, and such an excellent 
correspondent, while he was under your care! 
Ah, it would have been a happy thing if he had 
never left you. I assure you. Captain Wentworth, 
we are very sorry he ever left you.’’ 

There was a momentary expression in Captain 
Wentworth’s face at this speech, a certain glance 
of his bright eye, and curl of his handsome mouth, 
which convinced Anne that instead of sharing in 
Mrs. Musgrove’s kind wishes as to her son, he 
had probably been at some pains to get rid of him ; 
but it was too transient an indulgence of self- 
amusement to be detected by any who understood 
him less than herself. In another moment he was 
perfectly collected and serious; and almost in- 
stantly afterwards coming up to the sofa, on which 
she and Mrs. Musgrove were sitting, took a place 
by the latter, and entered into conversation with 
her, in a low voice, about her son, doing it with 
so much sympathy and natural grace as showed 
the kindest consideration for all that was real and 
unabsurd in the parent’s feelings. 

They were actually on the same sofa, — for Mrs. 
Musgrove had most readily made room for him, — 
they were divided only bj^ Mrs. Musgrove. It 
was no insignificant barrier indeed. Mrs. Mus- 
grove was of a comfortable substantial size, in- 
finitely more fitted by nature to express good cheer 
and good humor than tenderness and sentiment; 
and while the agitations of Anne’s slender form 
and pensive face may be considered as very com- 
pletely screened, Captain Wentworth should be 
allowed some credit for the self-command with 


PERSUASION. 


89 


which he attended to her large fat sighings over 
the destiny of a son whom alive nobody had cared 
for. 

Personal size and mental sorrow have certainly 
no necessary proportions. A large bulky figure 
has as good a right to be in deep affliction as the 
most graceful set of limbs in the world. But, 
fair or not fair, there are unbecoming conjunc- 
tions, which reason will patronize in vain, wfflich 
taste cannot tolerate, w'hich ridicule will seize. 

Tlie Admiral, after taking two or three refresh- 
ing turns about the room, with his hands behind 
him, being called to order by his wife, now came 
up to Captain Wentworth, and without any ob- 
servation of what he might be interrupting, think- 
ing only of his own thoughts, began with, — 

“If you had been a week later at Lisbon, last 
spring, Frederick, you would have been asked to 
give a passage to Lady Mary Grierson and her 
daughters.’’ 

“ Should I? I am glad I was not a week later 
then.” 

The Admiral abused him for his want of gallantry. 
He defended himself; though professing that he 
would never willingly admit any ladies on board a 
ship of liis, excepting for a ball or a visit which 
a few hours might comprehend. 

“But if I know myself,” said he, “this is 
from no want of gallantry towards them. It is 
rather from feeling how impossible it is, with all 
one’s efforts and all one’s sacrifices to make the 
accommodations on board such as women ought to 
have. There can be no want of gallantry, Ad- 


90 


PERSUASION. 


miral, in rating the claims of women to every 
personal comfort high ; and this is what I do. I 
hate to hear of women on board, or to see them on 
board; and no ship under my command shall 
ever convey a family of ladies anywhere, if I can 
help it.’^ 

This brought his sister upon him. 

Oh, Frederick! But I cannot believe it of 
jmu. All idle refinement! Women may be as 
comfortable on hoard as in the best house in Eng- 
land. I believe I have lived as much on hoard as 
most women, and I know nothing superior to the 
accommodations of a man-of-war. I declare, I 
have not a comfort or an indulgence about me, 
even at Kellynch Hall,’’ with a kind how to 
Anne, beyond what 1 always had in most of the 
ships I have lived in; and they have been five 
altogether.” 

‘‘Nothing to the purpose,” replied her brother. 
“You were living with your husband, and were 
the only woman on board.” 

“But you yourself brought Mrs. Harville, her 
sister, her cousin, and the three children round 
from Portsmouth to Plymouth. Where was this 
superfine, extraordinary sort of gallantry of yours 
then? ” 

“All merged in my friendship, Sophia. I 
would assist any brother ofiicer’s wife that I could, 
and I would bring anything of Harville’s from 
the world’s end, if he wanted it. But do not im- 
agine that I did not feel it an evil in itself.” 

“Depend upon it, they were all perfectly com- 
fortable.” 


PERSUASION. 


91 


might not like them the better for that, 
perhaps. Such a number of women and children 
have no right to be comfortable on board.” 

dear Frederick, you are talking quite 
idly. Pray, what would become of us poor sail- 
ors’ wives, who often want to be conveyed to one 
port or another after our husbands, if everybody 
had your feelings? ” 

My feelings, you see, did not prevent my 
taking Mrs. Harville and all her family to 
Plymouth.” 

^^But I hate to hear you talking so, like a fine 
gentleman, and as if women were all fine ladies, 
instead of rational creatures. We none of us 
expect to be in smooth water all our days.” 

^‘Ah, my dear, ” said the Admiral, ^‘when he 
has got a wife, he will sing a different tune. 
When he is married, if we have the good luck to 
live to another war, we shall see him do as you 
and I and a great many others have done. We 
shall have him very thankful to anybody that will 
bring him his wife.” 

^^Ay, that we shall.” 

^‘Now I have done,” cried Captain Wentworth. 
^‘When once married people begin to attack me 
with, — ^ Oh, you will think very differently 
when you are married, ’ I can only say, ‘ No, I 
shall not ; ’ and then they say again, ^ Yes, you 
will,’ and there is an end of it.” 

He got up and moved away. 

‘^What a great traveller you must have been, 
ma’am!” said Mrs. Musgrove to Mrs. Croft. 

^ ‘ Pretty well, ma’am, in the fifteen years of my 


92 


PERSUASION. 


marriage; though many women have done more. 
I have crossed the Atlantic four times, and have 
been once to the East Indies, and back again, and 
only once; besides being in different places about 
home, — Cork and Lisbon and Gibraltar. But 
I never went beyond the Streights, and never was 
in the West Indies. We do not call Bermuda or 
Bahama, you know, the West Indies.” 

Mrs. Musgrove had not a word to say in dis- 
sent; she could not accuse herself of having ever 
called them anything in the whole course of her 
life. 

And I do assure you, ma’am,” pursued Mrs. 
Croft, “that nothing can exceed the accommoda- 
tions of a man-of-war; I speak, you know, of the 
higher rates. When you come to a frigate, of 
course, you are more confined; though any reason- 
able woman may be perfectly happy in one of 
them; and I can safely say that the happiest part 
of my life has been spent on board a ship. While 
we were together, you know, there was nothing 
to be feared. Thank God! I have always been 
blessed with excellent health, and no climate dis- 
agrees with me. A little disordered always the 
first twenty-four hours of going to sea, but never 
knew what sickness was afterwards. The only 
time that I ever really suffered in body or mind, 
the only time that I ever fancied myself unwell 
or had any ideas of danger, was the winter that I 
passed by myself at Deal, when the Admiral 
(Captain Croft then) was in the NTorth Seas. I 
lived in perpetual fright at that time, and had all 
manner of imaginary complaints from not know- 


PEKSUASION. 


93 


ing what to do with myself, or when I should 
hear from him next; but as long as we could be 
together, nothing ever ailed me, and I never met 
with the smallest inconvenience.’’ 

“ Ay, to be sure. Yes, indeed, oh, yes, I am 
quite of your opinion, Mrs. Croft,” was Mrs. 
Musgrove’s hearty answer. “ There is nothing so 
bad as a separation. I am quite of your opinion. 
I know what it is, for Mr. Musgrove always at- 
tends the assizes, and I am so glad when they are 
over, and he is safe back again.” 

The evening ended with dancing. On its be- 
ing proposed, Anne offered her services, as usual; 
and though her eyes would sometimes fill with 
tears as she sat at the instrument, she was ex- 
tremely glad to be employed, and desired nothing 
in return but to be unobserved. 

It was a merry, joyous party, and no one 
seemed in higher spirits than Captain Wentworth. 
She felt that he had everything to elevate him, 
which general attention and deference, and es- 
pecially the attention of all the young women, 
could do. The Miss Hayters, the females of the 
family of cousins already mentioned, were appar- 
ently admitted to the honor of being in love with 
him; and as for Henrietta and Louisa, they both 
seemed so entirely occupied by him that nothing 
but the continued appearance of the most perfect 
good-will between themselves could have made it 
credible that they were not decided rivals. If 
he were a little spoilt by such universal, such 
eager admiration, who could wonder? 

These were some of the thoughts which occupied 


94 


PERSUASION. 


Anne, while her fingers were mechanically at 
work, proceeding for half an hour together, equally 
without error and without consciousness. Once 
she felt that he was looking at herself, — observing 
her altered features, perhaps tr^dng to trace in 
them the ruins of the face which liad once charmed 
him; and once she knew that he must have spoken 
of her; — she was hardl}’^ aware of it till she heard 
the answer; but then she was sure of his having 
asked his partner whether Miss Elliot never 
danced. The answer was, Oh, no, never; she 
has quite given up dancing. She had rather play ; 
she is never tired of playing.” Once, too, he 
spoke to her. She had left the instrument on the 
dancing being over, and he had sat down to tiy to 
make out an air which he wished to give the Miss 
Musgroves an idea of. Unintentionally she re- 
turned to that part of the room; he saw her, and 
instantl}’^ rising, said, with studied politeness, — 

“ I beg your pardon, madam, this is your seat; ” 
and though she immediately drew back with a 
decided negative, he was not to be induced to sit 
down again. 

Anne did not wish for more of such looks and 
speeches. His cold politeness, his ceremonious 
grace, were worse than anything. 


PERSUASION. 


95 


CHAPTER IX. 

Captain Wentworth was come to Kel lynch as 
to a home, to stay as long as he liked, being as 
thoroughly the object of the Admiral’s fraternal 
kindness as of his wife’s. He had intended, on 
first arriving, to proceed very soon into Shropshire, 
and visit the brother settled in that county, but 
the attractions of Uppercross induced him to put 
this off. There was so much of friendliness and 
of flattery, and of everything most bewitching in 
his reception there, — the old were so hospitable, 
the young so agreeable, — that he could not but re- 
solve to remain where he was, and take all the 
charms and perfections of Edward’s wife upon 
credit a little longer. 

It was soon Uppercross with him almost every 
day. The Musgroves could hardly be more ready 
to invite than he to come, particularly in the 
morning, when he had no companion at home ; for 
the Admiral and Mrs. Croft were generally out 
of doors together, interesting themselves in their 
new possessions, their grass, and their sheep, and 
dawdling about in a way not endurable to a third 
person; or driving out in a gig, lately added to 
their establishment. 

Hitherto there had been but one opinion of 
Captain Wentworth among the Musgroves and 


96 


PERSUASION. 


their dependencies, — it was unvarying, warm 
admiration everywhere; but this intimate footing 
was not more than established, when a certain 
Charles Hayter returned among them, to be a good 
deal disturbed by it, and to think Captain Went- 
worth very much in the way. 

Charles Hayter was the eldest of all the cousins, 
and a very amiable, pleasing young man, between 
whom and Henrietta there had been a considerable 
appearance of attachment previous to Captain 
Wentworth’s introduction. He was in orders; and 
having a curacy in the neighborhood, where resi- 
dence was not required, lived at his father’s house, 
only two miles from Uppercross. A short absence 
from home had left his fair one unguarded by his 
attentions at this critical period, and when he 
came back he had the pain of finding very altered 
manners, and of seeing Captain Wentworth. 

Mrs. Musgrove and Mrs. Hayter were sisters. 
They had each had money, but their marriages had 
made a material difference in their degree of conse- 
quence. Mr. Hayter had some property of his 
own, but it was insignificant compared with Mr. 
Musgrove’s; and while the Musgroves were in the 
first class of society in the countr}’-, the young 
Hayters would, from their parents’ inferior, re- 
tired, and unpolished way of living, and their own 
defective education, have been hardly in any class 
at all, but for their connection with Uppercross; 
this eldest son of course excepted, who had chosen 
to be a scholar and a gentleman, and who was very 
superior in cultivation and manners to all the 
rest. 


PERSUASION. 


97 


The two families had always been on excellent 
terms, there being no pride on one side, and no 
envy on the other, and only such a consciousness 
of superiority in the Miss Musgroves, as made 
them pleased to improve their cousins. Charles’s 
attentions to Henrietta had been observed by her 
father and mother without any disapprobation. 

It would not be a great match for her; but if 
Henrietta liked him, — and Henrietta did seem to 
like him.” 

Henrietta fully thought so herself, before Cap- 
tain Wentworth came; but from that time Cousin 
Charles had been very much forgotten. 

Which of the two sisters was preferred by Cap- 
tain Wentworth was as yet quite doubtful, as far 
as Anne’s observation reached. Henrietta was 
perhaps the prettiest, Louisa had the higher 
spirits; and she knew not now, whether the more 
gentle or the more lively character were most 
likely to attract him. 

Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove, either from seeing 
little, or from an entire confidence in the discre- 
tion of both their daughters, and of all the young 
men who came near them, seemed to leave every- 
thing to take its chance. There was not the 
smallest appearance of solicitude or remark about 
them in the Mansion-house ; but it was different at 
the Cottage. The young couple there were more 
disposed to speculate and wonder; and Captain 
Wentworth had not been above four or five times 
in the Miss Musgroves’ company, and Charles 
Hayter had but just re-appeared, when Anne had 
to listen to the opinions of her brother and sister, 

7 


98 


PERSUASION. 


as to which was the one liked best. Charles gave 
it for Louisa, Mary for Henrietta, hut quite agree- 
ing that to have him marry either would he 
extremely delightful. 

Charles ‘‘had never seen a pleasanter man in 
his life; and from what he had once heard Captain 
Wentworth himself say, was very sure that he had 
not made less than twenty thousand pounds by the 
w^ar. Here was a fortune at once; besides which, 
there would be the chance of w'hat might he done 
in an}’- future war; and he was sure Captain Went- 
worth w^as as likely a man to distinguish himself 
as any officer in the navy. Oh, it wmuld be a 
capital match for either of his sisters.^’ 

“Upon my word it would,’’ replied Mary. 
“Dear me! if he should rise to any very great 
honors! If he should ever be made a Baronet! 
‘Lady Wentworth’ sounds very well. That 
would be a noble thing, indeed, for Henrietta! 
She would take place of me, then, and Henrietta 
would not dislike that. Sir Frederick and Lady 
Wentworth! It would he but a new creation, how- 
ever, and I never think much of your new 
creations.” 

It suited Mary best to think Henrietta the one 
preferred on the very account of Charles Hayter, 
whose pretensions she wnshed to see put an end to. 
She looked down very decidedly upon the Hayters, 
and thought it would be quite a misfortune to 
have the existing connection between the families 
renewed; very sad for herself and her children. 

“You know,” said she, “I cannot think him 
at all a fit match for Henrietta; and considering 


PERSUASION. 


99 


the alliances which the Musgroves have made, she 
has no right to throw herself away. I do not 
think any young woman has a right to make a 
choice that may he disagreeable and inconvenient 
to the principal part of her family, and be giving 
had connections to those who have not been used 
to them. And, pray, who is Charles Hay ter? 
Nothing but a country curate. A most improper 
match for Miss Musgrove of Uppercross.’’ 

Her husband, however, would not agree with her 
here; for besides having a regard for his cousin, 
Charles Hayter was an eldest son, and he saw 
things as an eldest son himself. 

‘^Now you are talking nonsense, Mary,’’ w^as 
therefore his answer. ‘‘It would not be a great 
match for Henrietta, hut Charles has a very fair 
chance, through the Spicers, of getting something 
from the Bishop in the course of a year or two; 
and you will please to remember that he is the 
eldest son. Whenever my uncle dies, he steps 
into very pretty property. The estate at W inthrop 
is not less than two hundred and fifty acres, be- 
sides the farm near Taunton, which is some of the 
best land in the country. I grant you that any 
of them but Charles would he a very shocking 
match for Henrietta, and indeed it could not be; 
he is the only one that could he possible; hut he 
is a very good-natured, good sort of a fellow; and 
whenever Winthrop comes into his hands, he will 
make a different sort of place of it, and live in a 
very different sort of way; and with that property he 
will never he a contemptible man, — good freehold 
property. No, no; Henrietta might do worse than 


100 


PERSUASION. 


marry Charles Hay ter; and if she has him, and 
Louisa can get Captain Wentworth, I shall be 
very well satisfied.” 

^‘Charles may say what he pleases,” cried Mary 
to Anne, as soon as he was out of the room, “hut 
it would be shocking to have Henrietta marry 
Charles Hay ter, — a very bad thing for her, and still 
worse for me; and therefore it is very much to be 
wished that Captain Wentworth may soon put him 
quite out of her head, and I have very little doubt 
that he has. She took hardly any notice of Charles 
Hayter yesterday. I wish you had been there to 
see her behavior. And as to Captain Wentworth’s 
liking Louisa as well as Henrietta, it is nonsense 
to say so; for he certainly does like Henrietta a 
great deal the best. But Charles is so positive! 
I wish you had been with us yesterday, for then 
you might have decided between us ; and I am sure 
you would have thought as I did, unless you had 
been determined to give it against me.” 

A dinner at Mr. Musgrove’s had been the occa- 
sion when all these things should have been seen 
by Anne ; but she had stayed at home, under the 
mixed plea of a headache of her own, and some re- 
turn of indisposition in little Charles. She had 
thought only of avoiding Captain Wentworth; but 
an escape from being appealed to as umpire was 
now added to the advantages of a quiet evening. 

As to Captain Wentworth’s views, she deemed 
it of more consequence that he should know his 
own mind early enough not to be endangering the 
happiness of either sister, or impeaching his own 
honor, than that he should prefer Henrietta to 


PERSUASION. 


101 


Louisa, or Louisa to Henrietta. Either of them 
would, in all piohability, make him an affection- 
ate, good-humored wife. With regard to Charles 
Hayter, she had delicacy which must be pained by 
any lightness of conduct in a well-meaning young 
woman, and a heart to sympathize in any of the 
sufferings it occasioned; but if Henrietta found 
herself mistaken in the nature of her feelings, the 
alteration could not be understood too soon. 

Charles Hayter had met with much to disquiet 
and mortify him in his cousin^s behavior. She 
had too old a regard for him to be so wholly es- 
tranged as might in two meetings extinguish 
every past hope, and leave him nothing to do but 
to keep away from Uppercross; but there was such 
a chaqge as became very alarming, when such a 
man as Captain Wentworth was to be regarded as 
the probable cause. He had been absent only two 
Sundays; and when they parted, had left her in- 
terested, even to the height of his wishes, in his 
prospect of soon quitting his present curac}'^, and 
obtaining that of Uppercross instead. It had then 
seemed the object nearest her heart, that Dr. Shir- 
ley, the rector, who for more than forty years had 
been zealously discharging all the duties of his 
office, but was now growing too infirm for many of 
them, should be quite fixed on engaging a curate; 
should make his curacy quite as good as he could 
afford, and should give Charles Hayter the promise 
of it. The advantage of his having to come only 
to Uppercross, instead of going six miles another 
way; of his having, in every respect, a better 
curacy; of his belonging to their dear Dr. Shirley; 


102 


PERSUASION. 


and of dear, good Dr. Shirley’s being relieved from 
the duty which he could no longer get through 
without most injurious fatigue, had been a great 
deal, even to Louisa, hut had been almost every- 
thing to Henrietta. When he came back, alas! 
the zeal of the business w^as gone by. Louisa could 
not listen at all to his account of a conversation 
which he had just held with Dr, Shirle}^, — she 
was at the window, looking out for Captain Went- 
worth ; and even Henrietta had at best only a di- 
vided attention to give, and seemed to have for- 
gotten all the former doubt and solicitude of the 
negotiation. 

^‘Well, I am ver^^^ glad, indeed; but I alwaj^s 
thought you would have it, — I always thought jmu 
sure. It did not appear to me that — In short, 
you know. Dr. Shirley must have a curate, and you 
had secured his promise. — Is he coming, Louisa? ” 

One morning, very soon after the dinner at the 
Musgroves, at which Anne had not been present. 
Captain Wentworth walked into the drawing-room 
at the Cottage, where were only herself and the 
little invalid Charles, who was lying on the sofa. 

The surprise of finding himself almost alone 
with Anne Elliot dej^rived his manners of their 
usual composure. He started, and could only say, 
‘‘I thought the Miss Musgroves had been here; 
Mrs. Musgrove told me I should find them here,”- — 
before he walked to the window to recollect himself, 
and feel how he ought to behave. 

‘‘They are upstairs with my sister; they will 
be down in a few moments, I dare say,” had been 
Anne’s reply, in all the confusion that was nat- 


PERSUASION. 


103 


nral ; and if the child had not called her to come and 
do something for him, she would have been out of 
the room the next moment, and released Captain 
Wentworth as well as herself. 

He continued at the window; and after calmly 
and politely saying, “1 hope the little hoy is bet- 
ter,’^ was silent. 

She was obliged to kneel down by the sofa, and 
remain there to satisfy her patient; and thus they 
continued a few minutes, when, to her very great 
satisfaction, she heard some other person crossing 
the little vestibule. She hoped, on turning her 
head, to see the master of the house; but it proved 
to be one much less calculated for making matters 
easy, — Charles Hayter, probably not at all better 
pleased by the sight of Captain Wentworth, than 
Captain Wentworth had been by the sight of 
Anne. 

She only attempted to say, ^^How do you do? 
Will not you sit down? The others will be here 
presently.” 

Captain Wentworth, however, came from his 
window, apparently not ill-disposed for conversa- 
tion; but Charles Hayter soon put an end to his 
attempts, by seating himself near the table, and 
taking up the newspaper; and Captain Wentworth 
returned to his window. 

Another minute brought another addition. The 
younger boy, a remarkably stout, forward child, 
of two years old, having got the door opened for 
him by some one without, made his determined 
appearance among them, and went straight to 
the sofa to see what was going on, and put in his 


104 


PEKSUASION. 


claim to anything good that might be giving 
away. 

There being nothing to eat, he could only have 
some play; and as his aunt would not let him 
tease his sick brother, he began to fasten himself 
upon her, as she knelt, in such a way that, busy as 
she was about Charles, she could not shake him off. 
She spoke to him, ordered, entreated, and insisted 
in vain. Once she did contrive to push him away, 
but the boy had the greater pleasure in getting 
upon her back again directly. 

Walter,” said she, ‘^get down this moment. 
You are extremely troublesome. I am very angry 
with you.” 

‘^Walter,” cried Charles Hayter, ‘‘why do you 
not do as you are bid? Do not you hear your aunt 
speak? Come to me, Walter; come to Cousin 
Charles.” 

But not a bit did Walter stir. 

In another moment, however, she found herself 
in the state of being released from him; some one 
was taking him from her, though he had bent 
down her head so much that his little sturdy 
hands were unfastened from around her neck, and 
he was resolutely borne away, before she knew that 
Captain Wentworth had done it. 

Her sensations on the discovery made her per- 
fectly speechless. She could not even thank him. 
She could only hang over little Charles, with most 
disordered feelings. His kindness in stepping for- 
ward to her relief, the manner, the silence in 
which it had passed, the little particulars of the 
circumstance, with the conviction soon forced on 


PERSUASION. 


105 


her, by the noise he was studiously making with 
the child, that he meant to avoid hearing her 
thanks, and rather sought to testify that her con- 
versation was the last of his wants, produced such 
a confusion of varying hut very painful agitation as 
she could not recover from, till enabled, by the en- 
trance of Mary and the Miss Musgroves, to make 
over her little patient to their cares, and leave the 
room. She could not stay. It might have been an 
opportunity of watching the loves and jealousies of 
the four, — they were now all together; but she could 
stay for none of it. It was evident that Charles 
Hayter was not well inclined towards Captain 
Wentworth. She had a strong impression of his 
having said, in a vexed tone of voice, after Captain 
Wentworth’s interference, ‘‘You ought to have 
minded me, Walter; I told you not to tease your 
aunt; ” and could comprehend his regretting that 
Captain Wentworth should do what he ought to 
have done himself. But neither Charles Hayter’s 
feelings nor anybody’s feelings could interest her, 
till she had a little better arranged her own. She 
was ashamed of herself, quite ashamed of being so 
nervous, so overcome by such a trifle; but so it 
was, and it required a long application of solitude 
and reflection to recover her. 


106 


PERSUASION. 


CHAPTER X. 

Other opportunities of making her observations 
could not fail to occur. Anne had soon been in 
company with all the four together often enough to 
have an opinion, though too wise to acknowledge 
as much at home, where she knew it would have 
satisfied neither husband nor wife; for while she 
considered Louisa to be rather the favorite, she 
could not but think, as far as she might dare to 
judge from memory and experience, that Captain 
Wentworth was not in love with either. They 
were more in love with him; 3^et there it was 
not love. It was a little fever of admiration ; but 
it might, probably" must, end in love with some. 
Charles Hay ter seemed aware of being slighted, 
and yet Henrietta had sometimes the air of be- 
ing divided between them. Anne longed for the 
power of representing to them all what they were 
about, and of pointing out some of the evils they 
were exposing themselves to. She did not attri- 
bute guile to any. It was the highest satisfaction 
to her to believe Captain Wentworth not in the 
least aware of the pain he was occasioning. There 
was no triumph, no pitiful triumph, in his manner. 
He had probablj^ never heard and never thought 
of any claims of Charles Hayter. He was only 
wrong in accepting the attentions — for accept- 


PERSUASION. 


107 


lug must be the word — of two young women at 
once. 

After a short struggle, however, Charles Hayter 
seemed to quit the field. Three days had passed 
without his coming once to Uppercross; a most 
decided change. He had even refused one regular 
invitation to dinner; and having been found on 
the occasion by Mr. Musgrove with some large 
books before him, Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove were 
sure all could not be right, and talked, with grave 
faces, of his studying himself to death. It was 
Mary’s hope and belief that he had received a 
positive dismissal from Henrietta, and her hus- 
band lived under the constant dependence of see- 
ing him to-morrow. Anne could only feel that 
Charles Hayter was wise. 

One morning, about this time, Charles Musgrove 
and Captain Wentworth being gone a-shooting 
together, as the sisters in the Cottage were sitting 
quietly at work, they were visited at the window 
by the sisters from the Mansion-house. 

It was a very fine November day, and the Miss 
Musgroves came through the little grounds, and 
stopped for no other purpose than to say that they 
were going to take a long walk, and therefore 
concluded Mary could not like to go with them; 
and when Mary immediately replied, with some 
jealousy at not being supposed a good walker. 

Oh, yes, I should like to join you very much, I 
am very fond of a long walk,” Anne felt persuaded, 
by the looks of the two girls, that it was precisely 
what they did not wish, and admired again the 
sort of necessity which the family habits seemed to 


108 


PERSUASION. 


produce, of everything being to be communicated, 
and everything being to be done together, however 
undesired and inconvenient. She tried to dissuade 
Mary from going, but in vain; and that being the 
case, thought it best to accept the Miss Musgroves’ 
much more cordial invitation to herself to go like- 
wise, as she might he useful in turning back with 
her sister, and lessening the interference in any 
plan of their own. 

“I cannot imagine why they should suppose I 
should not like a long walk! ” said Mary, as she 
went upstairs. Everybody is always supposing 
that I am not a good walker ! And yet they would 
not have been pleased, if we had refused to join 
them. When people come in this manner on pur- 
pose to ask us, how can one say no ? 

Just as they were setting off, the gentlemen 
returned. They had taken out a young dog, which 
had spoilt their sport, and sent them hack early. 
Their time and strength and spirits were there- 
fore exactly ready for this walk, and they entered 
into it with pleasure. Could Anne have foreseen 
such a junction, she would have staj^ed at home; 
hut from some feelings of interest and curiosity, 
she fancied now that it was too late to retract, and 
the whole six set forward together in the direction 
chosen by the Miss Musgroves, w^ho evidently 
considered the walk as under their guidance. 

Anne’s object was, not to he in the way of any- 
body, and where the narrow paths across the 
fields made many separations necessary, to keep 
with her brother and sister. Her pleasure in the 
walk must arise from the exercise and the day. 


PERSUASION. 


109 


from the view of the last smiles of the year upon 
the tawny leaves and withered hedges, and from 
repeating to herself some few of the thousand 
poetical descriptions extant of autumn, — that 
season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on 
the mind of taste and tenderness, — that season 
which has drawn from every poet worthy of being 
read some attempt at description or some lines of 
feeling. She occupied her mind as much as possi- 
ble in such-like musings and quotations ; but it was 
not possible that when within reach of Captain 
Wentworth’s conversation with either of the Miss 
Musgroves, she should not try to hear it; yet she 
caught little ver}^ remarkable. It was mere lively 
chat, such as any young persons on an intimate 
footing might fall into. He was more engaged 
with Louisa than with Henrietta. Louisa cer- 
tainly put more forward for his notice than her 
sister. This distinction appeared to increase, and 
there was one speech of Louisa’s which struck her. 
After one of the many praises of the day, which 
were continually bursting forth. Captain Went- 
worth added, — 

^^What glorious weather for the Admiral and 
my sister! They meant to take a long drive this 
morning; perhaps we may hail them from some of 
these hills. They talked of coming into this side 
of the country. I wonder whereabouts they will 
upset to-day. Oh, it does happen very often, 
I assure you; but my sister makes nothing of it, 
— she would as lief be tossed out as not.” 

Ah, you make the most of it, I know,” cried 
Louisa; ^^but if it were really so, I should do just 


110 


PEKSUASION. 


the same in her place. If I loved a man as she 
loves the Admiral, I would be alwa3^s with him, 
nothing should ever separate us, and I would 
rather he overturned by him than driven safel}’’ 
by anybody else.’’ 

It was spoken with enthusiasm. 

Had you? ” cried he, catching the same tone: 

I honor you! ” And there was silence between 
them for a little while. 

Anne could not immediately" fall into a quotation 
again. The sweet scenes of autumn were for a 
while put by, unless some tender sonnet, fraught 
with the apt analogy of the declining year, with 
declining happiness, and the images of youth and 
hope and spring, all gone together, blessed her 
memory. She roused herself to say, as they 
struck by order into another path, Is not this 
one of the ways to Winthrop? ” But nobody heard; 
or, at least, nobody answered her. 

Winthrop, however, or its environs, — for young 
men are sometimes, to he met with, strolling 
about near home, — was their destination ; and 
after another half-mile of gradual ascent through 
large enclosures where the ploughs at work and 
the fresh-made path spoke the farmer counteract- 
ing the sweets of poetical despondence, and mean- 
ing to have spring again, they gained the summit 
of the most considerable hill, which parted Upper- 
cross and Winthrop, and soon commanded a full 
view of the latter, at the foot of the hill on the 
other side. 

Winthrop, without beauty and without dignity, 
was stretched before them; an indifferent house. 


PERSUASION. 


Ill 


standing low, and hemmed in by the barns and 
buildings of a farmyard. 

Mary exclaimed : “Bless me! here is Winthrop; 
I declare I had no idea! Well, now I think we 
had better turn hack; I am excessively tired.’’ 

Henrietta, conscious and ashamed, and seeing 
no Cousin Charles walking along any path or 
leaning against any gate, was ready to do as Mary 
wished; hut “No,” said Charles Musgrove, and 
“No, no,” cried Lorjisa, more eagerly, and taking 
her sister aside, seemed to he arguing the matter 
warmly. 

Charles in the mean while was very decidedly 
declaring his resolution of calling on his aunt, 
now that he was so near; and very evidentlj^, 
though more fearfully, trying to induce his wife to 
go too. But this was one of the points on which 
the lady showed her strength ; and when he recom- 
mended the advantage of resting herself a quarter 
of an hour at Winthrop, as she felt so tired, she 
resolutely answered, “Oh, no, indeed! — walk- 
ing up that hill again would do her more harm 
than any sitting down could do her good; ” and in 
short, her look and manner declared that go she 
would not. 

After a little succession of this sort of debates 
and consultations, it was settled between Charles 
and his two sisters, that he and Henrietta should 
just run down for a few minutes, to see their aunt 
and cousins, while the rest of the party waited for 
them at the top of the hill. Louisa seemed the 
principal arranger of the plan ; and as she went a 
little way with them down the hill, still talking 


112 


PERSUASION. 


to Henrietta, Mary took the opportunity of look- 
ing scornfully around her, and saying to Captain 
Wentworth, — 

^^It is very unpleasant having such connections! 
But I assure you, I have never been in the house 
above twice in my life.’’ 

She received no other answer than an artificial, 
assenting smile, followed by a contemptuous glance, 
as he turned away, which Anne perfectly knew the 
meaning of. 

The brow of the hill, where they remained, was 
a cheerful spot. Louisa returned ; and Mary, find- 
ing a comfortable seat for herself on the step of a 
stile, was very well satisfied so long as the others 
all stood about her; but when Louisa drew Captain 
Wentworth away, to try for a gleaning of nuts in 
an adjoining hedgerow, and they were gone by 
degrees quite out of sight and sound, Mary was 
happy no longer. She quarrelled with her own 
seat, — was sure Louisa had got a much better some- 
where; and nothing could prevent her from going 
to look for a better also. She turned through the 
same gate, but could not see them. Anne found a 
nice seat for her, on a dry sunny bank, under the 
hedgerow, in wdiich she had no doubt of their still 
being, in some spot or other. Mary sat down for 
a moment, but it would not do; she was sure 
Louisa had found a better seat somewhere else, and 
she w^ould go on till she overtook her. 

Anne, really tired herself, was glad to sit down ; 
and she very soon heard Captain Wentworth and 
Louisa in the hedgerow, behind her, as if making 
their way back, along the rough, wild sort of chan- 


PERSUASION. 


113 


nel, down the centre. They were speaking as they 
drew near. Louisa’s voice was the first distin- 
guished. She seemed to be in the middle of some 
eager speech. What Anne first heard was, — 

‘‘And so I made her go. I could not bear that 
she should be frightened from the visit by such 
nonsense. What! would I be turned back from 
doing a thing that I had determined to do, and 
that I knew to be right, by the airs and interfer- 
ence of such a person, or of any person, I may say? 
Ko, I have no idea of being so easily persuaded. 
When I have made up mj’- mind, I have made it. 
And Henrietta seemed entirely to have made up 
hers to call at Winthrop to-day; and yet she 
was as near giving it up out of nonsensical com- 
plaisance! ” 

“ She would have turned back, then, but for 
you? ” 

“ She would, indeed. I am almost ashamed to 
say it.” 

“Happy for her to have such a mind as yours 
at hand! After the hints you gave just now, 
which did but confirm my own observations, the 
last time I was in company with him, I need not 
affect to have no comprehension of what is going 
on. I see that more than a mere dutiful morning 
visit to your aunt was in question; and woe betide 
him, and her too, when it comes to things of con- 
sequence, when they are placed in circumstances 
requiring fortitude and strength of mind, if she 
have not resolution enough to resist idle interfer- 
ence in such a trifle as this. Your sister is an 
amiable creature; but 3murs is the character of 
8 


114 


PERSUASION. 


decision and firmness, I see. If you value her 
conduct or happiness, infuse as much of your own 
spirit into her as you can; hut this, no doubt, you 
have been always doing. It is the worst evil of 
too yielding and indecisive a character, that no in- 
fluence over it can be depended on. You are never 
sure of a good impression being durable; every- 
body may sway it. Let those who would be happy 
be firm. Here is a nut,’’ said he, catching one 
down from an upper bough, ^^to exemplify, — a 
beautiful glossy nut, which, blessed with original 
strength, has outlived all the storms of autumn. 
Not a puncture, not a weak spot anywhere. This 
nut,” he continued, with playful solemnity, 
‘‘while so many of its brethren have fallen and 
been trodden underfoot, is still in possession of 
all the happiness that a hazel-nut can be supposed 
capable of.” Then returning to his former earnest 
tone, — “My first wish for all whom I am inter- 
ested in is that they should be firm. If Louisa 
Musgrove would be beautiful and happy in her 
November of life, she will cherish all her present 
powers of mind.” 

He had done, and was unanswered. It would 
have surprised Anne, if Louisa could have readily 
answered such a speech, — words of such interest, 
spoken with such serious warmth! She could 
imagine what Louisa was feeling. For herself, 
she feared to move, lest she should be seen. While 
she remained, a bush of low rambling holly pro- 
tected her, and they were moving on. Before 
they were beyond her hearing, however, Louisa 
spoke again. 


PERSUASION. 


115 


‘‘Mary is good-natured enough in many re- 
spects/’ said she; “but she does sometimes pro- 
voke me excessively, by her nonsense and her 
pride, — the Elliot pride. She has a great deal 
too much of the Elliot pride. We do so wish that 
Charles had married Anne instead. I suppose you 
know he wanted to marry Anne?” 

After a moment’s pause. Captain Wentworth 
said, — 

“Do you mean that she refused him?” 

“Oh, yes; certainly.” 

“When did that happen? ” 

“I do not exactly know, for Henrietta and I 
were at school at the time; but I believe about a 
year before he married Mary. I wish she had ac- 
cepted him. We should all have liked her a great 
deal better, and papa and mamma always think it 
was her great friend Lady Eussell’s doing, that 
she did not. They think Charles might not be 
learned and bookish enough to please Lady Eus- 
sell, and that, therefore, she persuaded Anne to 
refuse him.” 

The sounds were retreating, and Anne distin- 
guished no more. Her own emotions still kept 
her fixed. She had much to recover from, before 
she could move. The listener’s proverbial fate 
was not absolutely hers, — she had heard no evil of 
herself; but she had heard a great deal of very 
painful import. She saw how her own character 
was considered by Captain Wentworth; and there 
had been just that degree of feeling and curiosit}^ 
about her in his manner, wLich must give her 
extreme agitation. 


116 


PERSUASION. 


As soon as she could, she went after Mary, and 
having found and walked back with her to their 
former station, by the stile, felt some comfort in 
their whole party being immediately afterwards 
collected, and once more in motion together. Her 
spirits wanted the solitude and silence which only 
numbers could give. 

Charles and Henrietta returned, hringiug, as 
may he conjectured, Charles Hay ter with them. 
The minutiae of the business Anne could not at- 
tempt to understand, — even Captain Wentw'orth 
did not seem admitted to perfect confidence here ; 
hut that there had been a withdrawing on the gen- 
tleman’s side, and a relenting on the lady’s, and 
that they were now very glad to he together again, 
did not admit a doubt. Henrietta looked a little 
ashamed, hut very well pleased; Charles Hay ter 
exceedingly happy; and they were devoted to each 
other almost from the first instant of their all set- 
ting forward for Uppercross. 

Everything now marked out Louisa for Captain 
Wentworth. Nothing could be plainer ; and where 
many divisions were necessary, or even where they 
were not, they walked side by side, nearly as 
much as the other two. In a long strip of meadow 
land, wLere there was ample space for all, they 
were thus divided, forming three distinct parties; 
and to that party of the three which boasted least 
animation and least complaisance, Anne necessa- 
rily belonged. She joined Charles and Mary, and 
was tired enough to he very glad of Charles’s 
other arm; hut Charles, though in very good 
humor witli her, was out of temper with his wife. 


PERSUASION. 


117 


Mary had shown herself disobliging to him, and 
was now to reap the consequence, — which conse- 
quence was his dropping her arm almost every 
moment, to cut off the heads of some nettles in 
the hedge with his switch; and when Mary began 
to complain of it, and lament her being ill-used, 
according to custom, in being on the hedge side, 
while Anne was never incommoded on the other, 
he dropped the arms of both, to hunt after a weasel 
which he had a momentary glance of, and they 
could hardly get him along at all. 

This long meadow bordered a lane, which their 
footpath, at the end of it, was to cross; and when 
the party had all reached the gate of exit, the 
carriage advancing in the same direction, which 
had been some time heard, was just coming up, 
and proved to be Admiral Croft’s gig. He and 
his wife had taken their intended drive, and were 
returning home. Upon hearing how long a walk 
the jmung people had engaged in, they kindly 
offered a seat to any lady who might be particu- 
larly tired; it would save her full a mile, and they 
were going through Uppercross. The invitation 
was general, and generally declined. The Miss 
Musgroves were not at all tired, and Mary was 
either offended, by not being asked before any of 
the others, or, what Louisa called the Elliot pride, 
could not endure to make a third in a one-horse 
chaise. 

The walking party had crossed the lane, and 
were surmounting an opposite stile; and the Ad- 
miral was putting his horse into motion again, 
when Captain Wentworth cleared the hedge in a 


118 


PERSUASION. 


moment, to say something to his sister. The 
something might be guessed by its effects. 

“Miss Elliot, I am sure you are tired,’’ cried 
Mrs. Croft. “Do let us have the pleasure of 
taking you home. Here is excellent room for 
three, I assure you. If we were all like you, I be- 
lieve we might sit four. You must, indeed, jmu 
must.” 

Anne was still in the lane; and though instinct- 
ively beginning to decline, she was not allowed to 
proceed. The Admiral’s kind urgency came in 
support of his wife’s; they would not be refused; 
they compressed themselves into the smallest pos- 
sible space to leave her a corner; and Captain 
Wentworth, without saying a word, turned to her, 
and quietly obliged her to be assisted into the 
carriage. 

Yes, he had done it. She was in the carriage, 
and felt that he had placed her there, that his will 
and his hands had done it, that she owed it to his 
perception of her fatigue, and his resolution to 
give her rest. She was very much affected by the 
view of his disposition towards her, which all these 
things made apparent. This little circumstance 
seemed the com23letion of all that had gone before. 
She understood him. He could not forgive her; 
but he could not be unfeeling. Though condemn- 
ing her for the past, and considering it with high 
and unjust resentment, though perfectly careless 
of her, and though becoming attached to another, 
still he could not see her suffer, without the desire 
of giving her relief. It was a remainder of former 
sentiment; it was an impulse of pure, though un- 


PERSUASION. 


119 


acknowledged friendship ; it was a proof of his 
own warm and amiable heart, which she could not 
contemplate without emotions so compounded of 
^pleasure and pain that she knew not which 
>pre vailed. 

Her answers to the kindness and the remarks of 
her companions were at first unconsciously given. 
They had travelled half their way along the rough 
lane before she was quite awake to what they said. 
She then found then^ talking of Frederick.’^ 

He certainly means to have one or other of 
those two girls, Sophy,” said the Admiral; ^‘but 
there is no saying which. He has been running 
after them, too, long enough, one would think, to 
make up his mind. Ay, this comes of the peace. 
If it were war, now, he would have settled it long 
ago. We sailors. Miss Elliot, cannot afford to 
make long courtships in time of war. How many 
days was it, my dear, between the first time of my 
seeing you and our sitting down together in our 
lodgings at Horth Yarmouth? ” 

We had better not talk about it, my dear,” 
replied Mrs. Croft, pleasantly; ^Hor if Miss Elliot 
were to hear how soon we came to an understand- 
ing, she would never be persuaded that we could 
be happy together. I had known you by character, 
however, long before.” 

‘‘Well, and I had heard of you as a very pretty 
girl; and what were we to wait for besides? I do 
not like having such things so long in hand. I 
wish Frederick would spread a little more canvas, 
and bring us home one of these young ladies to 
Kellynch. Then there would always be company 


120 


PERSUASION. 


for them. And very nice yonng ladies they both 
are; I hardly know one from the other.’’ 

Very good-humored, unaffected girls, indeed,” 
said Mrs. Croft, in a tone of calmer praise, such 
as made Anne suspect that her keener powers 
might not consider either of them as quite worthy 
of her brother; ‘^and a very respectable family. 
One could not be connected with better people. 
My dear Admiral, that post! — we shall certainly 
take that post.” 

But by coolly giving the reins a better direction 
herself, they happily passed the danger; and by 
once afterwards judiciously putting out her hand, 
they neither fell into a rut, nor ran foul of a dung- 
cart; and Anne, with some amusement at their 
style of driving, which she imagined no bad repre- 
sentation of the general guidance of their affairs, 
found herself safely deposited by them at the 
Cottage. 


PERSUASION. 


121 


CHAPTER XI. 

The time now approached for Lady RusselPs re- 
turn, — the day was even fixed; and Anne, being 
engaged to join her as soon as she was resettled, 
was looking forward to an early removal to Kel- 
lynch, and beginning to think how her own com- 
fort was likely to be affected by it. 

It would place her in the same village with 
Captain Wentworth, within half a mile of him; 
they would have to frequent the same church, and 
there must be intercourse between the two families. 
This was against her; hut, on the other hand, he 
spent so much of his time at Uppercross, that in 
removing thence she might be considered rather as 
leaving him behind than as going towards him; 
and, upon the whole, she believed she must, on 
this interesting question, he the gainer, almost as 
certainly as in her change of domestic society, in 
leaving poor Mary for Lady Russell. 

She wished it might be possible for her to avoid 
ever seeing Captain Wentworth at the hall, — those 
rooms had witnessed former meetings which would 
he brought too painfully before her; but she was 
yet more anxious for the possibility of Lady Rus- 
sell and Captain Wentworth never meeting any- 
where. They did not like each other, and no 
renewal of acquaintance now could do any good; 
and were Lady Russell to see them together, she 


122 


PERSUASION. 


might think that he had too much self-possession, 
and she too little. 

These points formed her chief solicitude in an- 
ticipating her removal from Uppercross, where she 
felt she had been stationed quite long enough. 
Her usefulness to little Charles would always give 
some sweetness to the memory of her two m6nths’ 
visit there; hut he was gaining strength apace, 
and she had nothing else to stay for. 

The conclusion of her visit, however, was di- 
versified in a way which she had not at all ima- 
gined. Captain Wentworth, after being unseen 
and unheard of at Uppercross for two whole days, 
appeared again among them to justify himself by 
a relation of what had kept him away. 

A letter from his friend, Captain Harville, hav- 
ing found him out at last, had brought intelligence 
of Captain Harville’s being settled with his family 
at Lyme for the winter; of their being, therefore, 
quite unknowingly, within twenty miles of each 
other. Captain Harville had never been in good 
health since a severe wound which he received two 
years before, and Captain Wentworth’s anxiety to 
see him had determined him to go immediately to 
Lyme. He had been there for four-and-twenty 
hours. His acquittal was complete, his friendship 
warmly honored, a lively interest excited for his 
friend; and his description of the fine country 
about Lyme so feelingly attended to by the party, 
that an earnest desire to see Lyme themselves, and 
a project for going thither, was the consequence. 

The young people were all wild to see Lyme. 
Captain Wentworth talked of going there again 


PERSUASION. 


123 


liimself; it was only seventeen miles from Upper- 
cross (though November, the weather was by no 
means bad); and, in shorty Louisa, who was the 
most eager of the eager, having formed the resolu- 
tion to go, and besides the pleasure of doing as she 
liked, being now armed with the idea of merit in 
maintaining her own way, bore down all the wishes 
of her father and mother for putting it off till 
summer ; and to Lyme they were to go, — Charles, 
Mary, Anne, Henrietta, Louisa, and Captain 
Wentworth. 

The first heedless scheme had been to go in the 
morning and return at night; but to this Mr. 
Musgrove, for the sake of his horses, would not 
consent; and when it came to be rationally con- 
sidered, a day in the middle of November would 
not leave much time for seeing a new place, after 
deducting seven hours, as the nature of the coun- 
try required, for going and returning. They 
were, consequently, to stay the night there, and 
not to be expected back till the next day’s dinner. 
This was felt to be a considerable amendment; 
and though they all met at the Great House at 
rather an early breakfast-hour, and set off very 
punctually, it was so much past noon before the 
two carriages, Mr. Musgrove’s coach containing 
the four ladies, and Charles’s curricle, in which 
he drove Captain Wentworth, were descending 
the long hill into Lyme, and entering upon the 
jstill steeper street of the town itself, that it was 
very evident the}’- would not have more than time 
for looking about them, before the light and warmth 
of the day were gone. 


124 


PERSUASION. 


After securing accommodations, and ordering a 
dinner at one of the inns, the next thing to be 
done was unquestionably to walk directly down to 
the sea. They were come too late in the year for 
any amusement or variety which Lyme as a pub- 
lic place might offer; the rooms were shut up, 
the lodgers almost all gone, scarcely any family but 
of the residents left; and as there is nothing to 
admire in the buildings themselves, the remark- 
able situation of the town, the principal street al- 
most hurrying into the water; the walk to the 
Cobb, skirting round the pleasant little ba}^ 
which in the season is animated with bathing- 
machines and company; the Cobb itself, its old won- 
ders and new improvements, with the very beauti- 
ful line of cliffs stretching out to the east of the 
town, are what the stranger’s eye will seek; and a 
very strange stranger it must be who does not see 
charms in the immediate environs of Lyme to 
make him wish to know it better. The scenes in- 
its neighborhood, — Charmouth, with its high 
grounds and extensive sweeps of country, and still 
more its sweet retired bay, backed by dark cliffs 
where fragments of low rock among the sands 
make it the happiest spot for watching the flow of 
the tide, for sitting in unwearied contemplation; 
the woody varieties of the cheerful village of Up 
Lyme; and, above all, Pinny, with its green 
chasms between romantic rocks, where the scat- 
tered forest-trees and orchards of luxuriant growth 
declare that many a generation must have passed 
away since the flrst partial falling of the cliff pre- 
pared the ground for such a state, where a scene 


PERSUASION. 


125 


so wonderful and so lovely is exhibited as may 
more than equal any of the resembling scenes of 
the far-famed Isle of Wight, — these places must 
be visited and visited again, to make the worth 
of Lyme understood. 

The party from Uppercross passing down by the 
now deserted and melancholy-looking rooms, and 
still descending, soon found themselves on the 
sea-shore; and lingering only, as all must linger 
and gaze on a first return to the sea who ever 
deserve to look on it at all, proceeded towards the 
Cobb, equally their object in itself and on Captain 
Wentworth^s account; for in a small house, near 
the foot of an old pier of unknown date, were the 
Harvilles settled. Captain W^entworth turned in 
to call on his friend; the others walked on, and he 
was to join them on the Cobb. 

They were by no means tired of wondering and 
admiring, and not even Louisa seemed to feel 
that they had parted with Captain Wentworth 
long, when they saw him coming after them, with 
three companions, all well known already by de- 
scription to be Captain and Mrs. Harville, and a 
Captain Benwick, who was staying with them. 

Captain Benwick had some time ago been first 
lieutenant of the Laconia; and the account which 
Captain Wentworth had given of him, on his re- 
turn from Lyme before, his warm praise of him as 
an excellent young man and an officer, whom he 
had always valued highly, which must have 
stamped him well in the esteem of every listener, 
had been followed by a little history of his private 
life, which rendered him perfectly interesting in 


126 


PERSUASION. 


the eyes of all the ladies. He had been engaged 
to Captain Harville’s sister, and was now mourn- 
ing her loss. They had been a year or two wait- 
ing for fortune and promotion. Fortune came, 
his prize-money as lieutenant being great ; promo- 
tion, too, came at last; but Fanny Harville did 
not live to know it. She had died the preceding 
snmmer, while he was at sea. Captain Went- 
worth believed it impossible for man to be more 
attached to woman than poor Benwick had been to 
Fanny Harville, or be more deeply afflicted under 
the dreadful change. He considered his disposition 
as of the sort which must suffer heavily, uniting 
veiy strong feelings with quiet, serious, and retir- 
ing manners, and a decided taste for reading and 
sedentary pursuits. To finish the interest of the 
story, the friendship between him and the Har- 
villes seemed, if possible, augmented by the event 
which closed all their views of alliance, and Cap- 
tain Benwick was now living with them entirely. 
Captain Harville had taken his present house for 
half a 3"ear, his taste and his health and his 
fortune all directing him to a residence unexpen- 
si ve and by the sea; and the grandeur of the 
country, and the retirement of Lyme in the win- 
ter, appeared exactly adapted to Captain Benwick’s 
state of mind. The sympathy and good-will ex- 
cited towards Captain Benwick was very great. 

And yet,’’ said Anne to herself, as they now 
moved forward to meet the party, “he has not, 
perhaps, a more sorrowing heart than I have. I 
cannot believe his prospects so blighted forever. 
He is younger than I am, — younger in feeling if 


PEHSUASION. 


127 


not in fact; younger as a man. He will rally 
again, and be happy with another.’’ 

They all met, and were introduced. Captain 
Harville w^as a tall, dark man, with a sensible, 
benevolent countenance; a little lame; and, from 
strong features and want of health, looking much 
older than Captain Wentworth. Captain Ben- 
wick looked, and was, the youngest of the three, 
and, compared with either of them, a little man. 
He had a pleasing face and a melancholy air, 
just as he ought to have, and drew back from 
conversation. 

Captain Harville, though not equalling Cap- 
tain Wentworth in manners, was a perfect gentle- 
man; unaffected, warm, and obliging. Mrs. 
Harville, a degree less polished than her husband, 
seemed however to have the same good feelings; 
and nothing could be more pleasant than their 
desire of considering the wdiole party as friends of 
their own, because the friends of Captain Went- 
worth, or more kindly hospitable than their en- 
treaties for their all promising to dine with them. 
The dinner, already ordered at the inn, was at 
last, though unwillingly, accepted as an excuse; 
but they seemed almost hurt that Captain Went- 
worth should have brought any such party to 
Lyme, without considering it as a thing of course 
that they should dine with them. 

There was so much attachment to Captain Went- 
worth in all this, and such a bewitching charm in 
a degree of hospitality so uncommon, so unlike the 
usual style of give-and-take invitations, and din- 
ners of formality and display, that Anne felt her 


128 


PERSUASION. 


spirits not likely to be benefited by an increasing 
acquaintance among his brother-officers. These 
would have been all my friends/’ was her thought; 
and she had to struggle against a great tendency 
to lowness. 

On quitting the Cobb, they all went in-doors 
with their new friends, and found rooms so small 
as none but those who invite from the heart could 
think capable of accommodating so many. Anne 
had a moment’s astonishment on the subject her- 
self; but it was soon lost in the pleasanter feel- 
ings which sprang from the sight of all the 
ingenious contrivances and nice arrangements of 
Captain Harville, to turn the actual space to the 
best possible account, to supply the deficiencies of 
lodging-house furniture, and defend the windows 
and doors against the winter storms to be ex- 
pected. The varieties in the fitting-up of the 
rooms, where the common necessaries provided by 
the owner, in the common indifferent plight, were 
contrasted with some few articles of a rare species 
of wood, excellently worked up, and with some- 
thing curious and valuable from all the distant 
countries Captain Harville had visited, were more 
than amusing to Anne : connected as it all was 
with his profession, the fruit of its labors, the 
effect of its influence on his habits, the picture 
of repose and domestic happiness it presented, 
made it to her a something more or less than 
gratification. 

Captain Harville was no reader; but he had con- 
trived excellent accommodations, and fashioned very 
pretty shelves, for a tolerable collection of well- 


PERSUASION. 


129 


bound volumes, the property of Captain Benwick. 
His lameness prevented him from taking much 
exercise ; but a mind of usefulness and ingenuity 
seemed to furnish him with constant employment 
within. He drew, he varnished, he carpentered, 
he glued; he made toys for the children; he fash- 
ioned new netting-needles and pins with improve- 
ments; and if everything else was done, sat down 
to his large fishing-net at one corner of the room. 

Anne thought she left great happiness behind 
her when they quitted the house ; and Louisa, by 
whom she found herself walking, burst forth into 
raptures of admiration and delight on the charac- 
ter of the navy, — their friendliness, their brotherli- 
ness, their openness, their uprightness ; protesting 
that she was convinced of sailors having more 
worth and warmth than any other set of men in 
England; that they only knew how to live, and 
they only deserved to be respected and loved. 

They went back to dress and dine ; and so well 
had the scheme answered already, that nothing 
was found amiss, though its being ‘‘so entirely 
out of the season,’^ and the “no thoroughfare of 
Lyme, and the “no expectation of company 
had brought many apologies from the heads of the 
inn. 

Anne found herself by this time growing so 
much more hardened to being in Captain Went- 
worth’s company than she had at first imagined 
could ever be, that the sitting down to the same 
table with him now, and the interchange of the 
common civilities attending on it (they never got 
beyond), was become a mere nothing. 

9 


130 


PERSUASION. 


The nights were too dark for the ladies to meet 
again till the morrow, but Captain Harville had 
promised them a visit in the evening; and he 
came, bringing his friend also, which was more 
than had been expected, it having been agreed 
that Captain Benwick had all the appearance of 
being oppressed hy the presence of so many stran- 
gers. He ventured among them again, however, 
though his spirits certainly did not seem fit for 
the mirth of the party in general. 

While Captains Wentworth and Harville led the 
talk on one side of the room, and by recurring to 
former days supplied anecdotes in abundance to 
occupy and entertain the others, it fell to Anne’s 
lot to he placed rather apart with Captain Benwick; 
and a very good impulse of her nature obliged her 
to begin an acquaintance with him. He was sh^q 
and disposed to abstraction; hut the engaging mild- 
ness of her countenance, and gentleness of her 
manners soon had their effect; and Anne was well 
repaid the first trouble of exertion. He was evi- 
dently a young man of considerable taste in read- 
ing, though principall}'^ in poetry; and besides the 
persuasion of having given him at least an even- 
ing’s indulgence in the discussion of subjects 
which his usual companions had probably no con- 
cern in, she had the hope of being of real use to 
him in some suggestions as to the duty and bene- 
fit of struggling against affliction, which had nat- 
urally grown out of their conversation. For, 
though shy, he did not seem reserved, — it had 
rather the appearance of feelings glad to burst 
their usual restraints; and having talked of poe- 


PERSUASION. 


131 


try, the richness of the present age, and gone 
through a brief comparison of opinion as to the 
first-rate poets, trying to ascertain whether ‘^Mar- 
mion ’’ or ^‘The Lady of the Lake” were to be 
preferred, and how ranked the ‘‘Giaour” and 
“The Bride of Abydos,” and, moreover, how the 
“Giaour” was to be pronounced, he showed him- 
self so intimately acquainted with all the tenderest 
songs of the one poet, and all the impassioned^ de- 
scriptions of hopeless agony of the other; he re- 
peated, with such tremulous feeling, the various 
lines which imaged a broken heart, or a mind de- 
stroyed by wretchedness, and looked so entirely as 
if he meant to be understood, — that she ventured to 
hope he did not always read onlj'' poetry, and to say 
that she thought it was the misfortune of poetry 
to be seldom safel^T- enjoyed by those who enjoyed 
it completely, and that the strong feelings which 
alone could estimate it truly were the very feelings 
which ought to taste it but sparingly. 

His looks showing him not pained, but pleased 
with this allusion to his situation, she was embold- 
ened to go on; and feeling in herself the right of 
seniority of mind, she ventured to recommend a 
larger allowance of prose in his daily study; and 
on being requested to particularize, mentioned 
such works of our best moralists, such collections 
of the finest letters, such memoirs of characters 
of worth and suffering, as occurred to her at the 
moment as calculated to rouse and fortify the 
mind by the highest precepts, and the strongest 
examples of moral and religious endurances. 

Captain Benwick listened attentively, and seemed 


132 


PERSUASION. 


grateful for the interest implied; and though with 
a shake of the head, and sighs which declared his 
little faith in the efficacy of any books on grief 
like his, noted down the names of those she re- 
commended, and promised to procure and read 
them. 

When the evening was over, Anne could not but 
he amused at the idea of her coming to Lyme to 
preach patience and resignation to a young man 
whom she had never seen before; nor could she 
help fearing, on more serious reflection, that, like 
many other great moralists and preachers, she had 
been eloquent on a point in which her own conduct 
would ill bear examination. 


PERSUASION. 


133 


CHAPTER XII. 

Anne and Henrietta, finding themselves the 
earliest of the party the next morning, agreed to 
stroll down to the sea before breakfast. They 
went to the sands, to watch the flowing of the tide, 
which a fine southeasterly breeze was bringing in 
with all the grandeur which so flat a shore ad- 
mitted. They praised the morning, gloried in the 
sea, sympathized in the delight of the fresh-feeling 
breeze, and were silent; till Henrietta suddenly 
began again with, — 

“ Oh, yes, I am quite convinced that with 
very few exceptions the sea-air always does good. 
There can be no doubt of its having been of the 
greatest service to Dr. Shirley, after his illness, 
last spring twelvemonth. He declares himself, 
that coming to Lyme for a month did him more 
good than all the medicine he took, and that be- 
ing by the sea always makes him feel young again. 
Now, I cannot help thinking it a pity that he does 
not live entirely by the sea. I do think he had 
better leave Uppercross entirely, and fix at Lyme. 
Do not you, Anne? Do not you agree with me, 
that it is the best thing he could do, both for 
himself and Mrs. Shirley? She has cousins here, 
you know, and many acquaintances, which would 
make it cheerful for her; and I am sure she would 
be glad to get to a place where she could have 


134 


PERSUASION. 


medical attendance at hand, in case of his having 
another seizure. Indeed, I think it quite melan- 
choly to have such excellent people as Dr. and 
Mrs. Shirley, who have been doing good all their 
lives, wearing out their last days in a place like 
Uppercross, where, excepting our family, they 
seem shut out from all the world. I wish his 
friends would propose it to him. I really think 
they ought. And as to procuring a dispensation, 
there could he no difficulty at his time of life and 
with his character. My only doubt is whether 
anything could persuade him to leave his parish. 
He is so very strict and scrupulous in his notions; 
over-scrupulous, I must say. Do not you think, 
Anne, it is being over-scrupulous? Do not you 
think it is quite a mistaken point of conscience, 
wffien a clergj^man sacrifices his health for the sake 
of duties which may be just as well performed by 
another person? And at Lyme too, — only seven- 
teen miles off, — he would be near enough to hear, if 
people thought there was anything to complain of.” 

Anne smiled more than once to herself during 
this speech, and entered into the subject, as ready 
to do good by entering into the feelings of a young 
lady as of a young man; though here it was good 
of a lower standard, for what could be offered but 
general acquiescence? She said all that was rea- 
sonable and proper on the business; felt the claims 
of Dr. Shirle}’’ to repose as she ought; saw how 
very desirable it was that he should have some 
active, respectable j’^oung man as a resident curate, 
and was even courteous enough to hint at the ad- 
vantage of such resident curate’s being married. 


PERSUASION. 


135 


-wisli,” said Henrietta, very well pleased 
with her companion, — I wish Lady Russell lived 
at Uppercross, and were intimate with Dr. Shirley. 
I have always heard of Lady Russell as a woman 
of the greatest influence with everybody! I al- 
ways look upon her as able to persuade a person 
to anything! I am afraid of her, as I have told 
you before, quite afraid of her, because she is so 
very clever; but I respect her amazingly, and wish 
we had such a neighbor at Uppercross.’^ 

Anne was amused by Henrietta’s manner of 
being grateful, and amused also that the course of 
events, and the new interests of Henrietta’s views 
should have placed her friend at all in favor with 
any of the Musgrove family. She had only time, 
however, for a general answer, and a wish that 
siiqh another woman were at Uppercross, before all 
subjects suddenly ceased, on seeing Louisa and 
Captain Wentworth coming towards them. They 
came also for a stroll till breakfast was likely to be 
ready; but Louisa, recollecting immediately after- 
wards that she had something to procure at a shop, 
invited them all to go back with her into the 
town. They were all at her disposal. 

When they came to the steps leading upwards 
from the beach, a gentleman, at the same moment 
preparing to come down, politely drew back and 
stopped to give them way. They ascended and 
passed him; and as they passed, Anne’s face caught 
his eye, and he looked at her with a degree of 
earnest admiration which she could not be in- 
sensible of. She was looking remarkably well ; her 
very regular, very pretty features having the bloom 


136 


PERSUASION. 


and freshness of youth restored by the fine wind 
which had been blowing on her complexion, and by 
the animation of e^^e which it had also produced. 
It was evident that the gentleman (completely a 
gentleman in manner) admired her exceedingly. 
Captain Wentworth looked round at her instantly 
in a way which showed his noticing of it. He 
gave her a momentary glance, — a glance of 
brightness, which seemed to say, “That man is 
struck with you; and even I at this moment see 
something like Anne Elliot again.” 

After attending Louisa through her business, 
and loitering about a little longer, they returned 
to the inn; and Anne, in passing afterwards 
quickly from her own chamber to their dining- 
room, had nearly run against the very same gentle- 
man, as he came out of an adjoining apartment. 
She had before conjectured him to be a stranger 
like themselves, and determined that a well-look- 
ing groom, who was strolling about near the two 
inns as they came back, should be his servant. 
Both master and man being in mourning assisted 
the idea. It was now proved that he belonged to 
the same inn as themselves ; and this second meet- 
ing, short as it was, also proved again, by the 
gentleman’s looks, that he thought hers very 
lovely, and by the readiness and propriety of 
his apologies, that he was a man of exceedingly 
good manners. He seemed about thirty, and 
though not handsome, had an agreeable person. 
Anne felt that she should like to know who he 
was. 

They had nearly done breakfast, when the sound 


PERSUASION. 


137 


of a carriage, almost the first they had heard since 
entering Lyme, drew half the party to the 
window. ^^It was a gentleman’s carriage, a cur- 
ricle, hut only coming round from the stable-yard 
to the front door; somebody must be. going away. 
It was driven by a servant in mourning.” 

The word ‘^curricle” made Charles Musgrove 
jump up, that he might compare it with his own; 
the servant in mourning roused Anne’s curiosity; 
and the whole six were collected to look, by the time 
the owner of the curricle was to be seen issuing 
from the door, amidst the bows and civilities of the 
household, and taking his seat to drive off. * 

Ah!” cried Captain Wentworth, instantly, and 
with half a glance at Anne; ‘‘it is the very man 
we passed.” 

The Miss Musgroves agreed to it; and having 
all kindly watched him as far up the hill as they 
could, they returned to the breakfast-table. The 
waiter came into the room soon afterwards. 

“Pray,” said Captain Wentworth, immediately, 
“can you tell us the name of the gentleman who 
is just gone away? ” 

“Yes, sir, a Mr. Elliot; a gentleman of large 
fortune; came in last night from Sidmouth, — 
dare say you heard the carriage, sir, while you were 
at dinner; and going on now for Crewkherne, in 
his way to Bath and London.” 

“Elliot!” Many had looked on each other, 
and many had repeated the name, before all this 
had been got through even by the smart rapidity 
of a waiter. 

“Bless me! ’’cried Mary. “It must be our 


138 


PERSUASION. 


cousin, — it must be our Mr. Elliot; it must in- 
deed! Charles, Anne, must not it ? In mourning, 
you see, just as our Mr. Elliot must be. How- 
very extraordinary ! In the very same inn with 
us ! Anne, must not it be our Mr. Elliot, my 
father’s next heir ? Pray, sir,” turning to the 
waiter, ^^did not you hear — did not his servant 
say whether he belonged to the Kellynch family ? ” 

^^No, ma’am, — he did not mention no particu- 
lar family ; but he said his master was a very rich 
gentleman, and would be a baronight some day.” 

‘‘There! you see!” cried Maiy, in an ecstasy; 
“just as I said! Heir to Sir Walter Elliot ! I 
was sure that would come out, if it was so. De- 
pend upon it, that is a circumstance which his 
servants take care to publish wherever he goes. 
But, Anne, only conceive how extraordinary’- ! I 
wish I had looked at him more. I wish we had 
been aware in time who it was, that he might 
have been introduced to us. What a pity that we 
should not have been introduced to each other ! 
Do you think he had the Elliot countenance ? I 
hardly looked at him, I was looking at the horses; 
but I think he had something of the Elliot counte- 
nance. I wonder the arms did not strike me! 
Oh, the great-coat was hanging over the panel, and 
hid the arms; so it did, otherwise I am sure I 
should have observed them and the livery too; if 
the servant had not been in mourning, one should 
have known him by the livery.” 

“ Putting all these very extraordinary circum- 
stances together,” said Captain Wentworth, “we 
must consider it to be the arrangement of Provi- 


PERSUASION. 139 

dence that you should not be introduced to your 
cousin.’’ 

When she could command Mary’s attention, 
Anne quietly tried to convince her that their fa- 
ther and Mr. Elliot had not for many years been 
on such terms as to make the power of attempting 
an introduction at all desirable. 

At the same time, however, it was a secret 
gratification to herself to have seen her cousin, and 
to know that the future owner of Kellynch was 
undoubtedly a gentleman, and had an air of good 
sense. She would not, upon any account, mention 
her having met with him the second time; luckily 
Mary did not much attend to their having passed 
close by him in their early walk, but she would 
have felt quite ill-used by Anne’s having actually 
run against him in the passage, and received his 
very polite excuses, while she had never been near 
him at all ; no, that cousinly little interview must 
remain a perfect secret. 

‘‘ Of course,” said Mary, ‘‘you will mention our 
seeing Mr. Elliot the next time you write to Bath. 
I think my father certainly ought to hear of it; do 
mention all about him.” 

Anne avoided a direct reply, but it was just the 
circumstance which she considered as not merely 
unnecessary to be communicated, but as what 
ought to be suppressed. The offence which had 
been given her father, many years back, she knew; 
Elizabeth’s particular share in it she suspected; and 
that Mr. Elliot’s idea always produced irritation 
in both was beyond a doubt. Mary never wrote 
to Bath herself; all the toil of keeping up a slow 


140 


PERSUASION. 


and unsatisfactory correspondence with Elizabeth 
fell on Anne. 

Breakfast had not been long over when they 
were joined by Captain and Mrs. Harville and 
Captain Benwick, with whom they had appointed 
to take their last walk about Lyme. They ought 
to be setting off for Uppercross by one, and in the 
mean while were to be all together, and out of doors 
as long as they could. 

Anne found Captain Benwick getting near her, 
as soon as they were all fairly in the street. Their 
conversation the preceding evening did not dis- 
incline him to seek her again ; and they walked 
together some time, talking as before of Mr. Scott 
and Lord Byron, and still as unable as before and 
as unable as any other two readers, to think ex 
actly alike of tbe merits of either, till something 
occasioned an almost general change amongst their 
party, and instead of Captain Benwick, she had 
Captain Harville by her side. 

“Miss Elliot,^’ said he, speaking rather low, 
“ you have done a good deal in making that poor 
fellow talk so much. I wish he could have such 
company oftener. It is bad for him, 1 know, to 
be shut up as he is ; but what can we do ? We 
cannot part.’^ 

“ No,” said Anne, “that I can easily believe to 
be impossible; but in time, perhaps — we know 
what time does in every case of affliction; and you 
must remember. Captain Harville, that your friend 
may yet be called a young mourner, — only last 
summer, I understand.” 

“Ay, true enough,’^ with a deep sigh; “only 
June.” 


PERSUASION. 


141 


And not known to him, perhaps, so soon.” 

^‘N^ot till the first week in August, when he 
came home from the Cape, — just made into the 
Grappler. I was at Plymouth, dreading to hear 
of him. He sent in letters, but the Grappler was 
under orders for Portsmouth. There the news 
must follow him; but who was to tell it? Not I. I 
would as soon have been run up to the yard-arm. 
Nobody could do it, but that good fellow,” pointing 
to Captain Wentworth. ‘‘The Laconia had come 
into Plymouth the week before; no danger of her 
being sent to sea again. He stood his chance for 
the rest, — wrote up for leave of absence; but with- 
out waiting the return, travelled night and day 
till he got to Portsmouth, rowed off to the Grappler 
that instant, and never left the poor fellow for a 
week; that’s what he did, and nobody else could 
have saved poor James. You may think. Miss 
Elliot, whether he is dear to us ! ” 

Anne did think on the question with perfect 
decision, and said as much in reply as her own 
feelings could accomplish, or as his seemed able to 
bear, for he was too much affected to renew the 
subject; and when he spoke again, it was of 
something totally different. 

Mrs. Harville’s giving it as her opinion that her 
husband would have quite walking enough by the 
time he reached home, determined the direction of 
all the party in what was to be their last walk; 
they would accompany them to their door, and 
then return and set off themselves. By all their 
calculations there was just time for this; but as 
they drew near the Cobb, there was such a general 


142 


PERSUASION. 


wish to walk along it once more, all were so in- 
clined, and Louisa soon grew so determined, that 
the difference of a quarter of an hour, it was found, 
would be no difference at all; so with all the kind 
leave-taking, and all the kind interchange of invi- 
tations and promises which may be imagined, they 
parted from Captain and Mrs. Harville at their 
own door, and still accompanied by Captain Ben- 
wick, who seemed to cling to them to the last, 
proceeded to make the proper adieus to the Cobb. 

Anne found Captain Benwick again drawing 
near her. Lord Byron’s ^^dark blue seas ” could 
not fail of being brought forward by their present 
view, and she gladly gave him all her attention 
as long as attention was possible. It was soon 
drawn perforce another way. 

There was too much wind to make the high part 
of the new Cobb pleasant for the ladies, and they 
agreed to get down the steps to the lower, and all 
were contented to pass quietly and carefully down 
the steep flight, excepting Louisa; she must be 
jumped down them by Captain Wentworth. In 
all their walks he had had to jump her from the 
stiles; the sensation was delightful to her. The 
hardness of the pavement for her feet made him 
less willing upon the present occasion; he did it, 
however. She was safely down, and instantly, to 
show her enjoyment, ran up the steps to be jumped 
down again. He advised her against it, — thought 
the jar too great; but no, he reasoned and talked 
in vain. She smiled and said, ‘‘I am determined 
I will.” He put out his hands; she was too pre- 
cipitate by half a second; she fell on the pavement 
on the Lower Cobb, and was taken up lifeless! 


PERSUx\SION. 


143 


There was no wound, no blood, no visible bruise ; 
but her eyes were closed, she breathed not, her 
face was like death. The horror of that moment 
to all who stood around! 

Captain Wentworth, who had caught her up, 
knelt with her in his arms, looking on her with a 
face as pallid as her own in an agony of silence. 

She is dead! she is dead!’’ screamed Mary, 
catching hold of her husband, and contributing 
with his own horror. to make him immovable; and 
in another moment Henrietta, sinking under the 
conviction, lost her senses too, and would have 
fallen on the steps but for Captain Benwick and 
Anne, who caught and supported her between 
them. 

“Is there no one to help me?” were the first 
words which burst from Captain Wentworth, in a 
tone of despair, and as if all his own strength were 
gone. 

“Go to him, go to him!” cried Anne; “for 
heaven’s sake, go to him. I can support her my- 
self. Leave me, and go to him. Kub her hands, 
rub her temples ; here are salts, — take them, take 
them.” 

Captain Benwick obeyed, and Charles at the 
same moment disengaging himself from his wife, 
they were both with him; and Louisa was raised 
up and supported more firmly between them, and 
everything was done that Anne had prompted, but 
in vain; while Captain Wentworth, staggering 
against the wall for his support, exclaimed in the 
bitterest agony, — 

“ 0 God! her father and mother! ” 


144 


PERSUASION. 


A surgeon! said Anne. 

He caught the word. It seemed to rouse him at 
oncej and saying only, ^^True, true, a surgeon 
this instant,” was darting away, when Anne 
eagerly suggested, — 

Captain Benwick, — would not it he better for 
Captain Benwick? He knows where a surgeon is 
to be found.’’ 

Every one capable of thinking felt the advantage 
of the idea, and in a moment (it was all done in 
rapid moments) Captain Benwick had resigned the 
poor corpse-like figure entirely to the brother’s care, 
and was oft for the town with the utmost rapidity. 

As to the wretched party left behind, it could 
scarcely he said which of the three who were 
completely rational was suffering most, — Captain 
Wentworth, Anne, or Charles, who, really a very 
affectionate brother, hung over Louisa with sobs 
of grief, and could only turn his eyes from one 
sister to see the other in a state as insensible, or 
to witness the hysterical agitations of his wife, 
calling on him for help which he could not give. 

Anne, attending with all the strength and zeal 
and thought which instinct supplied, to Henri- 
etta, still tried at intervals to suggest comfort to 
the others, — tried to quiet Mar^q to animate Charles, 
to assuage the feelings of Captain Wentworth. 
Both seemed to look to her for directions. 

^^Anne, Anne,” cried Charles, what is to he 
done next? What, in heaven’s name, is to he done 
next? ” 

Captain Wentworth’s eyes were also turned 
towards her. 


PERSUASION. 


145 


Had not she better be carried to the inn ? 
Yes, I am sure j carry her gently to the inn.’’ 

Yes, yes, to the inn,” repeated Captain Went- 
worth, comparatively collected, and eager to be 
doing something. “I will carry her myself. — 
Musgrove, take care of the others.” 

By this time the report of the accident had 
spread among the workmen and boatmen about the 
Cobb, and many were collected near them, to be 
useful if wanted; at any rate, to enjoy the sight of 
a dead young lady, — nay, two dead young ladies, 
for it proved twice as fine as the first report. To 
some of the best-looking of these good people Hen- 
rietta was consigned, for, though partially revived, 
she was quite helpless; and in this manner, Anne 
walking by her side, and Charles attending to his 
wife, they set forward, treading back, with feel- 
ings unutterable, the ground which so lately, so 
very lately, and so light of heart, they had passed 
along. 

They were not off the Cobb before the Harvilles 
met them. Captain Benwick had been seen flying 
by their house, with a countenance which showed 
something to be wrong; and they had set off imme- 
diately, informed and directed, as they passed, 
towards the spot. Shocked as Captain Harville 
was, he brought senses and nerves that could be 
instantly useful ; and a look between him and his 
wife decided what was to be done. She must be 
taken to their house, — all must go to their house, 
— and wait the surgeon’s arrival there. They 
would not listen to scruples. He was obeyed. 
They were all beneath his roof; and while Louisa, 
10 


146 


PERSUASION. 


under Mrs. Harville’s direction, was conveyed up- 
stairs, and given possession of her own bed, assist- 
ance, cordials, restoratives were supplied by her 
husband to all who needed them. 

Louisa had once opened her eyes; but soon 
closed them again, without apparent consciousness. 
This had been a proof of life, however, of service 
to her sister; and Henrietta, though perfectly in- 
capable of being in the same room with Louisa, 
was kept, by the agitation of hope and fear, from 
a return of her own insensibility. Mary, too, was 
growing calmer. 

The surgeon was with them almost before it had 
seemed possible. They were sick with horror 
while he examined; but he was not hopeless. The 
head had received a severe contusion, but he had 
seen greater injuries recovered from. He was by 
no means hopeless; he spoke cheerfully. 

That he did not regard it as a desperate case, 
that he did not say a few hours must end it, was 
at first felt beyond the hope of most; and the 
ecstasy of such a reprieve, the rejoicing, deep and 
silent, after a few fervent ejaculations of gratitude 
to Heaven had been offered, may be conceived. 

The tone, the look, with which Thank God! ’’ 
was uttered by Captain Wentworth, Anne was 
sure could never be forgotten by her; nor the 
sight of him afterwards, as he sat near a table, 
leaning over it with folded arms, and face con- 
cealed, as if overpowered by the various feelings of 
his soul, and trying by prayer and reflection to 
calm them. 

Louisa’s limbs had escaped. There was no in- 
jury but to the head. 


PERSUASION. 


147 


It now became necessary for the party to con- 
sider what was best to be done, as to their general 
situation. They were now able to speak to each 
other, and consult. That Louisa must remain 
where she was, however distressing to her friends 
to be involving the Harvilles in such trouble, did 
not admit a doubt. Her removal was impossible. 
The Harvilles silenced all scruples, and, as much 
as they could, all gratitude. They had looked 
forward and arranged everything, before the 
others began to reflect. Captain Benwick must 
give up his room to them, and get a bed else- 
where; and the whole was settled. They were 
only concerned that the house could accommodate 
no more; and yet, perhaps, by putting the chil- 
dren away in the maids’ room, or swinging a cot 
somewhere,” they could hardly bear to think of 
not finding room for two or three besides, suppos- 
ing they might wish to stay; though, with regard 
to any attendance on Miss Musgrove, there need 
not be the least uneasiness in leaving her to Mrs. 
Harville’s care entirely. Mrs. Harville was a 
very experienced nurse; and her nursery-maid, 
who had lived with her long, and gone about with 
her everywhere, was just such another. Between 
these two she could want no possible attendance 
by day or night. And all this was said with a 
truth and sincerity of feeling irresistible. 

Charles, Henrietta, and Captain Wentworth 
were the three in consultation, and for a little 
while it was only an interchange of perplexity and 
terror. Uppercross, — the necessity of some 
one’s going to Uppercross, — the news to be con- 


148 


PERSUASION. 


vej^ed, — how it could he broken to Mr. and Mrs. 
Musgrove, — the lateness of the morning, — an hour 
already gone since they ought to have been off, — 
the impossihilit3^ of being in tolerable time.’’ At 
first they were capable of nothing more to the pur- 
pose than such exclamations; but after a while 
Captain Wentworth, exerting himself, said, — 

‘‘We must be decided, and without the loss c.f 
another minute. Every minute is valuable. 
Some must resolve on being off for Uppercross 
instantly. Musgrove, either you or I must go.” 

Charles agreed, but declared his resolution of 
not going away. He would be as little encum- 
brance as possible to Captain and Mrs. Harville; 
but as to leaving his sister in such a state, he 
neither ought nor would. So far it was decided; 
and Henrietta at first declared the same. She, 
however, was soon persuaded to think differently^ 
The usefulness of her staying! She, who had 
not been able to remain in Louisa’s room, or to 
look at her, without sufferings which made her 
worse than helpless ! She w^as forced to acknow- 
ledge that she could do no good, yet was still un- 
willing to be away, till, touched by the thought 
of her father and mother, she gave it up; she 
consented, she was anxious to be at home. 

The plan had reached this point, when Anne, 
coming quietly down from Louisa’s room, could 
not but hear what followed, for the parlor door was 
open. 

“Then it is settled, Musgrove,” cried Captain 
Wentworth, “ that you stayq and that I take care of 
your sister home. But as to the rest, — as to the 


PERSUASION. 


149 


others, — if one stays* to assist Mrs. Harville, I 
think it need be only one. Mrs. Charles Mus- 
grove will, of course,- wish to get back to her chil- 
dren; but if Anne will stay, no one so proper, so 
capable as Anne ! ” 

She paused a moment to recover from the emo- 
tion of hearing herself so spoken of. The other two 
warmly agreed to what he said, and she then 
appeared. 

You will stay, I am sure; you will stay and 
nurse her,’’ cried he, turning to her and speaking 
with a glow and j^et a gentleness which seemed 
almost restoring the past. She colored deeply; 
and he recollected himself and moved away. She 
expressed herself most willing^ ready, happy to 
remain. It was what she had been thinking of, 
and wishing to be allowed to do. A bed on the 
floor in Louisa’s room would be sufficient for her, 
if Mrs. Harville would but think so.” 

One thing more, and all seemed arranged. 
Though it was rather desirable that Mr. and Mrs. 
Musgrove should be previously alarmed by some 
share of delay, yet the time required by the Upper- 
cross horses to take them back would be a dreadful 
extension of suspense; and Captain Wentworth pro- 
posed, and Charles Musgrove agreed, that it would 
be much better for him to take a chaise from the 
inn, and leave Mr. Musgrove’s carriage and 
horses to be sent home the next morning early, 
when there would be the farther advantage of 
sending an account of Louisa’s night. 

Captain Wentworth now hurried off to get 
everything ready on his part, and to be soon fol- 


150 


PERSUASION. 


lowed by the two ladies. When the plan was 
made known to Mary, however, there was an end 
of all peace in it. She was so wretched and so 
vehement; complained so much of injustice in be- 
ing expected to go away instead of Anne, — Anne, 
who was nothing to Louisa, while she was her 
sister, and had the best right to stay in Henri- 
etta’s stead! Why was not she to be as useful as 
Anne? And to go home without Charles, too, — 
without her husband! Ho, it was too unkind! 
And, in short, she said more than her husband 
could long withstand; and as none of the others 
could oppose when he gave way, there was no 
help for it : the change of Mary for Anne was 
inevitable. 

Anne had never submitted more reluctantly to 
the jealous and ill-judging claims of Mary; but so 
it must be, and they set off for the town, Charles 
taking care of his sister, and Captain Benwick at- 
tending to her. She gave a moment’s recollection, 
as they hurried along, to the little circumstances 
which the same spots had witnessed earlier in the 
morning. There she had listened to Henrietta’s 
schemes for Hr. Shirley’s leaving Uppercross; far- 
ther on she had first seen Mr. Elliot; a moment 
seemed all that could now be given to any one but 
Louisa, or those who were wrapt up in her welfare. 

Captain Benwick was most considerately atten- 
tive to her; and, united as they all seemed by the 
distress of the day, she felt an increasing degree 
of good-will towards him, and a pleasure even in 
thinking that it might, perhaps, be the occasion 
of continuing their acquaintance. 


PERSUASION. 


151 


Captain Wentworth was on the watch for them, 
and a chaise and four in waiting, stationed for 
their convenience in the lowest part of the street; 
hut his evident surprise and vexation at the sub- 
stitution of one sister for the other, the change of 
his countenance, the astonishment, the expressions 
begun and suppressed, with which Charles was 
listened to, made hut a mortifjdng reception of 
Anne; or must at least convince her that she was 
valued only as she could be useful to Louisa. 

She endeavored to he composed and to be just. 
Without emulating the feelings of an Emma to- 
wards her Henry, she would have attended on 
Louisa with a zeal above the common claims of re- 
gard, for his sake; and she hoped he would not long 
he so unjust as to suppose she would shrink un- 
necessarily from the office of a friend. 

In the mean while she was in the carriage. He 
had handed them both in, and placed himself be- 
tween them; and in this manner, under these cir- 
cumstances, full of astonishment and emotion to 
Anne, she quitted Lyme. How the long stage 
would pass, how it was to affect their manners, 
what was to be their sort of intercourse, she could 
not foresee. It was all quite natural, however. 
He was devoted to Henrietta; always turning 
towards her, and when he spoke at all, always 
with the view of supporting her hopes and raising 
her spirits. In general, his voice and manner 
were studiously calm. To spare Henrietta from 
agitation seemed the governing principle. Once 
only, when she had been grieving over the last 
ill-judged, ill-fated walk to the Cobb, bitterly 


152 


PERSUASION. 


lamenting that it ever had been thought of, he 
burst forth, as if wholly overcome, — 

Don’t talk of it, don’t talk of it,” he cried. 

0 God! that T had not given way to her at the 
fatal moment! Had T done as I ought! But so 
eager and so resolute! Dear, sweet Louisa!” 

Anne wondered whether it ever occurred to him 
now, to question the justness of his own previous 
opinion as to the universal felicity and advantage 
of firmness of character; and whether it might not 
strike him that, like all other qualities of the 
mind, it should have its proportions and limits. 
She thought it could scarcely escape him to feel 
that a persuadable temper might sometimes be as 
much in favor of happiness as a very resolute 
character. 

They got on fast. Anne was astonished to 
recognize the same hills and the same objects so 
soon. Their actual speed, heightened by some 
dread of the conclusion, made the road appear but 
half as long as on the day before. It was growing 
quite dusk, however, before they were in the 
neighborhood of Uppercross, and there had been 
total silence among them for some time, Henrietta 
leaning back in the corner, with a shawl over her 
face, giving the hope of her having cried herself to 
sleep; when, as they were going up their last 
hill, Anne found herself all at once addressed bj’- 
Captain Wentworth. In a low, cautious voice, he 
said, — 

I have been considering what we had best do. 
She must not appear at first. She could not stand 
it. I have been thinking whether you had not 


PERSUASION. 


153 


better remain in the carriage with her, while I go 
in and break it to Mr. and Mrs, Musgrove. Do 
yon think this a good plan? 

She did. He was satisfied, and said no more. 
But the remembrance of the appeal remained a 
pleasure to her, — as a proof of friendship, and of 
deference for her judgment, a great pleasure; and 
Avhen it became a sort of parting proof, its value 
did not lessen. 

When the distressing communication at Upper- 
cross was over, and he had seen the father and 
mother quite as composed as could be hoped, and 
the daughter all the better for being with them, he 
announced his intention of returning in the ?ame 
carriage to Lj^me ; and when the horses were 
baited, he was off. 


154 


PERSUASION. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

The remainder of Anne’s time at Uppercross, com- 
prehending only two days, was spent entirely aj: 
the Mansion-house; and she had the satisfaction of 
knowing herself extremely useful there, both as an 
immediate companion, and as assisting in all those 
arrangements for the future which in Mr. and Mrs. 
Musgrove’s distressed state of spirits would have 
been difficulties. 

They had an early account from Lj^me the next 
morning. Louisa was much the same. Xo symp- 
toms worse than before had appeared. Charles 
came a few hours afterwards, to bring a later and 
more particular account. He was tolerably cheer- 
ful. A speedy cure must not be hoped, but every- 
thing was going on as well as the nature of the 
case admitted. In speaking of the Harvilles, he 
seemed unable to satisfy his own sense of their 
kindness, especially of Mrs. Harville’s exertions 
as a nurse. ^‘She really left nothing for Mary 
to do. He and Mary had been persuaded to go 
early to their inn last night. Mary had been 
hysterical again this morning. When he came 
away, she was going to walk out with Captain 
Ben wick, which, he hoped, would do her good. 
He almost wished she had been prevailed on to 
come home the day before; but the truth was, 


PERSUASION. 


155 


that Mrs. Harville had left nothing for anybody 
to do.’’ 

Charles was to return to Lyme the same after- 
noon, and his father had at first half a mind to go 
with him; but the ladies could not consent. It 
would be going only to multiply trouble to the 
others, and increase his own distress; and a much 
better scheme followed, and was acted upon. A 
chaise was sent for from Crewkherne, and Charles 
conveyed back a far more useful person in the old 
nursery-maid of the family, — one who, having 
brought up all the children, and seen the very 
last, the lingering and long-petted master Harrj’-, 
sent to school after his brothers, was now living 
in her deserted nursery to mend stockings, and 
dress all the blains and bruises she could get near 
her, and who, consequently, was only too happy in 
being allowed to go and help nurse dear Miss 
Louisa. Vague wishes of getting Sarah thither 
had occurred before to Mrs. Musgrove and Henri- 
etta; but without Anne it would hardly have been 
resolved on, and found practicable so soon. 

They were indebted, the next day, to Charles 
Hayter for all the minute knowledge of Louisa 
which it was so essential to obtain every twenty- 
four hours. He made it his business to go to 
Lyme, and his account was still encouraging. 
The intervals of sense and consciousness were 
believed to be stronger. Every report agreed in 
Captain Wentworth’s appearing fixed in Lyme. 

Anne was to leave them on the morrow, an event 
which they all dreaded. ^‘What should they do 
without her? They were wretched comforters for 


156 


PERSUASION, 


one another/^ And so much was said in this 
way, that Anne thought she could not do better 
than impart among them the general inclination 
to which she was privy, and persuade them all to 
go to Lyme at once. She had little difficulty; it 
was soon determined that they w'ould go, — go 
to-morrow; fix themselves at the inn, or get into 
lodgings, as it suited; and there remain till dear 
Louisa could be moved. They must be taking off 
some trouble from the good people she was with, — 
they might at least relieve Mrs. Harville from 
the care of her own children; and, in short, they 
were so happy in the decision that Anne was 
delighted with what she had done, and felt that 
she could not spend her last morning at Upper- 
cross better than in assisting their preparations, 
and sending them off at an early hour, though her 
being left to the solitary range of the house was 
the consequence. 

She was the last, excepting the little boys at the 
Cottage she was the very last, the only remaining 
one of all that had filled and animated both houses, 
of all that had given Uppercross its cheerful char- 
acter. A few days had made a change indeed. 

If Louisa recovered, it would all be w ell again. 
More than former happiness would be restored. 
There could not be a doubt, to her mind there w as 
none, of what would follow her recovery. A few 
months hence, and the room now so deserted, 
occupied but by her silent, pensive self, might 
be filled again with all that w'^as happy and gay, 
all that w^as glowing and bright in prosperous love, 
all that was most unlike Anne Elliot. 


PERSUASION. 


157 


An hour’s complete leisure for such reflections as 
these on a dark November day, a small thick rain 
almost blotting out the very few objects ever to be 
discerned from the windows, was enough to make 
the sound of Lady Russell’s carriage exceedingly 
welcome; and yet, though desirous to be gone, she 
could not quit the Mansion-house, or look an 
adieu to the Cottage, with its black, dripping, and 
comfortless veranda, or even notice through the 
misty glasses the last humble tenements of the 
village, without a Saddened heart. Scenes had 
passed in Uppercross which made it precious. It 
stood the record of many sensations of pain, once 
severe but now softened; and of some instances 
of relenting feeling, some breathings of friendship 
and reconciliation, which could never be looked 
for again, and which could never cease to be dear. 
She left it all behind her, — all but the recollection 
that such things had been. 

Anne had never entered Kellynch since her 
quitting Lady Russell’s house in September. It 
had not been necessary, and the few occasions of its 
being possible for her to go to the hall she had 
contrived to evade and escape from. Her first 
return was to resume her place in the modern and 
elegant apartments of the Lodge, and to gladden 
the eyes of its mistress. 

There was some anxiety mixed with Lady 
Russell’s joy in meeting her. She knew who had 
been frequenting Uppercross. But happily, either 
Anne was improved in plumpness and looks, or 
Lady Russell fancied her so ; and Anne, in receiv- 
ing her compliments on the occasion, had the 


158 


PERSUASION. 


amusement of connecting them with the silent 
admiration of her cousin, and of hoping that she 
was to he blessed with a second spring of youth 
and beauty. 

When they came to converse, she was soon 
sensible of some mental change. The subjects of 
which her heart had been full on leaving Kellynch, 
and which she had felt slighted, and been com- 
pelled to smother among the Musgroves, were now 
become but of secondary interest. She had lately 
lost sight even of her father and sister and Bath. 
Their concerns had been sunk under those of 
Uppercross; and when Lady Bussell reverted to 
their former hopes and fears, and spoke her satis- 
faction in the house in Camden Place, which had 
been taken, and her regret that Mrs. Clay should 
still be with them, Anne would have been ashamed 
to have it known how much more she was think- 
ing of Lyme, and Louisa Musgrove, and all her 
acquaintance there; how much more interesting to 
her was the home and the friendship of the Harvilles 
and Captain Benwick, than her own father’s house 
in Camden Place, or her own sister’s intimacy 
with Mrs. Clay. She was actually forced to exert 
herself to meet Lady Bussell with anything like 
the appearance of equal solicitude on topics which 
had by nature the first claim on her. 

There was a little awkwardness at first in their 
discourse on another subject. They must speak of 
the accident at Lyme. Lady Bussell had not been 
arrived five minutes the day before, when a full 
account of the whole had burst on her; hut still 
it must he talked of, she must make inquiries, she 


PERSUASION. 


159 


must regret the imprudence, lament the result, and 
Captain Wentworth^s name must be mentioned by 
both. Anne was conscious of not doing it so well 
as Lady Russell. She could not speak the name, 
and look straight forward to Lady Russell’s eye, 
till she had adopted the expedient of telling her 
briefly what she thought of the attachment be- 
tween him and Louisa. When this was told, his 
name distressed her no longer. 

Lady Russell had only to listen composedly, and 
wish them happy; but internally her heart rev- 
elled in angry pleasure, in pleased contempt, that 
the man who at twenty-three had seemed to under- 
stand somewhat of the value of an Anne Elliot 
should, eight years afterwards, be charmed by a 
Louisa Musgrove. 

The first three or four days passed most quietly, 
with no circumstance to mark them excepting the 
receipt of a note or two from Lyme, which found 
their way to Anne, she could not tell how, and 
brought a rather improving account of Louisa. At 
the end of that period Lady Russell’s politeness 
could repose no longer, and the fainter self-threat- 
enings of the past became in a decided tone: “I 
must call on Mrs. Croft; I really must call upon 
her soon. Anne, have you courage to go with me, 
and pay a visit in that house? It will be some 
trial to us both.” 

Anne did not shrink from it; on the contrary, 
she truly felt as she said, in observing, — 

I think you are very likely to suffer the most 
of the two; your feelings are less reconciled to the 
change than mine. By remaining in the neigh- 
borhood, I am become inured to it.” 


160 


PERSUASION. 


She could have said more on the subject; for she 
had, in fact, so high an opinion of the Crofts, and 
considered her father so very fortunate in his ten- 
ants, felt the parish to be so sure of a good exam- 
ple, and the poor of the best attention and relief, 
that however sorry and ashamed for the necessity 
of the removal, she could not but in conscience 
feel that they were gone who deserved not to stay, 
and that Kellynch Hall had passed into better 
hands than its owners. These convictions must 
unquestionably have their own pain, and severe 
was its kind; but they precluded that pain which 
Lady Russell would suffer in entering the house 
again, and returning through the well-known 
apartments. 

In such moments Anne had no power of saying 
to herself, ‘‘These rooms ought to belong only to 
us. Oh, how fallen in their destination! How 
unworthily occupied! An ancient family to be 
so driven away! Strangers filling their place!’’ 
No; except when she thought of her mother, and 
remembered where she had been used to sit and pre- 
side, she had no sigh of that description to heave. 

Mrs. Croft always met her with a kindness 
which gave her the pleasure of fancying herself a 
favorite; and on the present occasion, receiving 
her in that house, there was particular attention. 

The sad accident at Lyme was soon the prevail- 
ing topic; and on comparing their latest accounts 
of the invalid, it appeared that each lady dated 
her intelligence from the same hour of yester 
morn; that Captain Wentworth had been in 
Kellynch yesterday (the first time since the acci- 


PERSUASION. 


161 


dent); had brought Anne the last note, which she 
had not been able to trace the exact steps of; had 
stayed a few hours, and then returned again to 
Lyme, and without any present intention of quit- 
ting it any more. He had inquired after her, she 
found, particularly; had expressed his hope of 
Miss Elliot’s not being the worse for her exer- 
tions, and had spoken of those exertions as great. 
This was handsome, and gave her more pleasure 
than almost anything else could have done. 

As to the sad catastrophe itself, it could be can- 
vassed only in one style by a couple of steady, 
sensible women, whose judgments had to work on 
ascertained events; and it was perfectly decided 
that it had been the consequence of much thought- 
lessness and much imprudence, that its effects 
were most alarming, and that it was frightful to 
think how long Miss Musgrove’s recovery might 
yet be doubtful, and how liable she would still 
remain to suffer from the concussion hereafter! 
The Admiral wmund it all up summarily by 
exclaiming, — 

“Ay, a very bad business, indeed. A new sort 
of way this, for a young fellow to be making love 
by breaking his mistress’s head! is not it. Miss 
Elliot? Thi^ is breaking a head and giving a 
plaster truly! ” 

Admiral Croft’s manners were not quite of the 
tone to suit Lady Eussell, but they delighted 
Anne. His goodness of heart and simplicity of 
character were irresistible. 

“ How, this must be very bad for you,” said he, 
suddenly rousing from a little reverie, “to be com- 
il 


162 


PERSUASION. 


ing and finding us here. I had not recollected it 
before, I declare, but it must be very bad. But 
now, do not stand upon ceremony. Get up and go 
over all the rooms in the bouse, if you like it.^’ 

^‘Another time, sir, I thank you; not now.’^ 

‘‘Well, whenever it suits you. You can slip in 
from the shrubbery at any time. And there you 
will find we keep our umbrellas hanging up by 
that door. A good place, is not it? But,’’ 
checking himself, “you will not think it a good 
place, for yours were always kept in the butler’s 
room. Ay, so it always is, I believe. One man’s 
ways may be as good as another’s, hut we all like 
our own best. And so you must judge for your- 
self, whether it would he better for you to go 
about the house or not.” 

Anne, finding she might decline it, did so very 
gratefully. 

“We have made very few changes, either,” con- 
tinued the Admiral, after thinking a moment, — 
“very few. We told you about the laundry-door 
at Uppercross. That has been a very great im- 
provement. The wonder was, how any family 
upon earth could bear with the inconvenience of its 
opening as it did so long! You will tell Sir Wal- 
ter what we have done, and that Mr. Shepherd 
thinks it the greatest improvement the house ever 
had. Indeed, I must do ourselves the justice to 
say, that the few alterations we have made have 
been all very much for the better. My wife should 
have the credit of them, however. I have done 
very little besides sending away some of the large 
looking-glasses from my dressing-room, which was 


PERSUASION. 


163 


your father^s. A very good man, and very much 
the gentleman, I am sure; but I should think. 
Miss Elliot, ’’ looking with serious reflection, — I 
should think he must he rather a dressy man for 
his time of life. Such a number of looking-glasses ! 
0 Lord! there was no getting away from one’s 
self. So I got Sophy to lend me a hand, and we 
soon shifted their quarters; and now I am quite 
snug, with my little shaving-glass in one corner, 
and another great thing that I never go near.” 

Anne, amused in spite of herself, was rather 
distressed for an answer; and the Admiral, fear- 
ing he might not have been civil enough, took up 
the subject again, to say, — ' 

^‘The next time you write to your good father, 
Miss Elliot, pray give my compliments and Mrs. 
Croft’s, and say that we are settled here quite to 
our liking, and have no fault at all to find with the 
place. The breakfast-room chimney smokes a lit- 
tle, I grant you, hut it is only when the wind is 
due north and blows hard, which may not happen 
three times a winter. And take it altogether, now 
that we have been into most of the houses here- 
abouts and can judge, there is not one that we like 
better than this. Pray say so, with mj’- compli- 
ments. He will he glad to hear it.” 

Lady Russell and Mrs. Croft were very well 
pleased with each other; but the acquaintance 
which this visit began was fated not to proceed far 
at present; for when it was returned, the Crofts 
announced themselves to he going away for a few 
weeks, to visit their connections in the north of 
the county, and probably might not be at home 


164 


PERSUASION. 


again before Lady Russell would be removing to 
Bath. 

So ended all danger to Anne of meeting Captain 
Wentworth at Kelly nch Hall, or of seeing him in 
company with her friend. Everything was safe 
enough, and she smiled over the many anxious 
feelings she had wasted on the subject. 


PERSUASION. 


165 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Though Charles and Mary had remained at Lyme 
much longer after Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove’s going 
than Anne conceived they could have been at all 
wanted, they were yet the first of the family to be 
at home again; and as soon as possible after their 
return to Uppercross they drove over to the Lodge. 
They had left Louisa beginning to sit up; but her 
head, though clear, was exceedingly weak, and her 
nerves susceptible to the highest extreme of ten- 
derness; and though she might be pronounced to 
be altogether doing very well, it was still impos- 
sible to say when she might be able to bear the 
removal home; and her father and mother, who 
must return in time to receive their younger chil- 
dren for the Christmas holidays, had hardly a hope 
of being allowed to bring her with them. 

They had been all in lodgings together. Mrs. 
Musgrove had got Mrs. Harville’s children away 
as much as she could, every possible supply from 
Uppercross had been furnished, to lighten the 
inconvenience to the Harvilles, while the Harvilles 
had been wanting them to come to dinner every 
day; and, in short, it seemed to have been only a 
struggle on each side, as to which should be most 
disinterested and hospitable. 

Mary had had her evils; but upon the whole, as 
was evident by her staying so long, she had found 


166 


PERSUASION. 


more to enjoy than to suffer. Charles Hay ter had 
been at Lyme oftener than suited her; and when 
they dined with the Harvilles there had been only 
a maid-servant to wait, and at first Mrs. Harville 
had always given Mrs. Musgrove precedence; but 
then, she had received so very handsome an apol- 
ogy from her on finding out whose daughter she 
was, and there had been so much going on every 
day, there had been so many walks between their 
lodgings and the Harvilles’, and she had got books 
from the library, and changed them so often, that 
the balance had certainly been much in favor of 
Lyme. She had been taken to Charmouth, too, 
and she had bathed, and she had gone to church, 
and there were a great many more people to look at 
in the church at Lyme than at Uppercross, — and 
all this, joined to the sense of being so very useful, 
had made really an agreeable fortnight. 

Anne inquired after Captain Benwick. Mary’s 
face was clouded directly. Charles laughed. 

Oh, Captain Benwick is very well, I believe, 
but he is a very odd young man. I do not know 
what he would be at. We asked him to come 
home with us for a day or two, — Charles undertook 
to give him some shooting, — and he seemed quite 
delighted, and for my part, I thought it was all 
settled; when, behold! on Tuesday night, he made 
a very awkward sort of excuse ; ‘ he never shot, ’ 
and he had ‘ been quite misunderstood, ’ — and he 
had promised this and he had promised that, and 
the end of it was, I found, that he did not mean to 
come. I suppose he was afraid of finding it dull; 
but upon my word I should have thought we v/ere 


PERSUASION. 167 

lively enough at the Cottage for such a heart-broken 
man as Captain Benwick.” 

Charles laughed again and said, Mary, 

you know very well how it really was. It was all 
your doing, turning to Anne. He fancied that 
if he went with us, he should find you close by : 
he fancied everybody to be living in Uppercross; 
and when he discovered that Lady Russell lived 
three miles off, his heart failed him, and he had 
not courage to come. That is the fact, upon my 
honor. Mary knows it is.” 

But Mary did not give in to it very graciously; 
whether from not considering Captain Benwick 
entitled by birth and situation to be in love with 
an Elliot, or from not wanting to believe Anne a 
greater attraction to Uppercross than herself, must 
be left to be guessed. Anne’s good-will, however, 
was not to be lessened by what she heard. She 
boldly acknowledged herself flattered, and contin- 
ued her inquiries. 

^^Oh, he talks of you,” cried Charles, ‘‘in such 
terms — ” 

Mary interrupted him. “I declare, Charles, 
I never heard him mention Anne twice all the 
time I was there. I declare, Anne, he never talks 
of you at all.” 

“No,” admitted Charles, “I do not know that 
he ever does, in a general way; but, however, it is 
a very clear thing that he admires you exceedingly. 
His head is full of some books that he is reading 
upon your recommendation, and he wants to talk 
to you about them; he has found out something or 
other in one of them which he thinks — Oh, I 


168 


PERSUASION. 


cannot pretend to remember it, but it was some- 
thing very fine, — ■! overheard him telling Henri- 
etta all about it; and then ‘Miss Elliot’ was 
spoken of in the highest terms! Now, Mary, I de- 
clare it was so, I heard it myself, and you were in 
the other room. ‘ Elegance, sweetness, beauty ’ — 
Oh, there was no end of Miss Elliot’s charms.” 

“And I am sure,” cried Mary, warmly, “it 
was very little to his credit, if he did. Miss Har- 
ville only died last June. Such a heart is very 
little worth having, is it. Lady Russell? I am 
sure you will agree with me.” 

“I must see Captain Benwick before I decide,” 
said Lady Russell, smiling. 

“And that you are very likely to do very soon, I 
can tell you, ma’am,” said Charles. “Though he 
had not nerves for coming away with us, and setting 
off again afterwards to pay a formal visit here, he 
will make his way over to Kel lynch one day by 
himself, you may depend on it. I told him the 
distance and the road, and I told him of the 
church’s being so very well worth seeing; for as 
he has a taste for those sort of things, I thought 
that would be a good excuse, and he listened with 
all his understanding and soul; and I am sure 
from his manner that you will have him calling 
here soon. So I give you notice. Lady Russell.” 

“Any acquaintance of Anne’s will always be 
welcome to me,” was Lady Russell’s kind answer. 

“Oh, as to being Anne’s acquaintance,” said 
Mary, “I think he is rather my acquaintance, for 
I have been seeing him every day this last fort- 
night.” 


PERSUASION. 


169 


‘^Well, as your joint acquaintance, then, I shall 
he very happy to see Captain Benwicko’^ 

You will not find anything very agreeable in 
him, I assure you, ma’am. He is one of the dull- 
est young men that ever lived. He has walked 
with me, sometimes, from one end of the sands to 
the other, without saying a word. He is not at 
all a well-bred young man. I am sure you will 
not like him.” 

‘‘There we differ, Mary,” said Anne. “I 
think Lady Bussell would like him. I think she 
would be so much pleased with his mind that she 
would very soon see no deficiency in his manner.” 

“So do^ I, Anne,” said Charles. “I am sure 
Lady Bussell would like him. He is just Lady 
Bussell’s sort. Give him a book, and he will read 
all day long.” 

“Yes, that he will!” exclaimed Mary, taunt- 
ingly. “He will sit poring over his book, and 
not know when a person speaks to him, or when 
one drops one’s scissors, or anything that happens. 
Do you think Lady Bussell would like that?” 

Lady Bussell could not help laughing. “ Upon 
my word,” said she, “I should not have supposed 
that my opinion of any one could have admitted of 
such difference of conjecture, steady and matter of 
fact as I may call myself. I have really a curi- 
osity to see the person who can give occasion to 
such directly opposite notions. I wish he may be 
induced to call here. And when he does, Mary, 
you may depend upon hearing my opinion; but I 
am determined not to judge him beforehand.” 

“You will not like him, I will answer for it.” 


170 


PERSUASION. 


Lady Kussell began talking of something else. 
Mary spoke with animation of their meeting with, 
or rather missing, Mr. Elliot so extraordinarily. 

‘‘He is a man,’’ said Lady Russell, “whom I 
have no wish to see. His declining to be on cor- 
dial terms with the head of his family has left a 
very strong impression in his disfavor with me.” 

This decision checked Mary’s eagerness, and 
stopped her short in the midst of the Elliot coun- 
tenance. 

With regard to Captain Wentworth, though 
Anne hazarded no inquiries, there was voluntary 
communication sufficient. His spirits had been 
greatly recovering lately, as might be expected. 
As Louisa improved, he had improved; and he was 
now quite a different creature from v/hat he had 
been the first week. He had not seen Louisa; and 
was so extremely fearful of any ill consequence to 
her from an interview, that he did not press for it 
at all ; and, on the contrary, seemed to have a plan 
of going away for a week or ten days, till her 
head were stronger. He had talked of going down 
to Plymouth for a week, and wanted to persuade 
Captain Benwick to go with him; but, as Charles 
maintained to the last. Captain Benwick seemed 
much more disposed to ride over to Kelly nch. 

There can be no doubt that Lady Russell and 
Anne were both occasionally thinking of Captain 
Benwick, from this time. Lady Russell could not 
hear the door-bell without feeling that it might be 
his herald; nor could Anne return from any stroll 
of solitary indulgence in her father’s grounds, or 
any visit of charity in the village, without wonder- 


PERSUASION. 


171 


iiig whether she might see him or hear of him. 
Captain Benwick came not, however. He was 
either less disposed for it than Charles had ima- 
gined, or he was too shy; and after giving him a 
week’s indulgence. Lady Bussell determined him 
to he unworthy of the interest which he had been 
beginning to excite. 

The Musgroves came back to receive their happy 
boys and girls from school, bringing with them 
Mrs. Harville’s little children, to improve the 
noise of Uppercross, and lessen that of Lyme. 
Henrietta remained with Louisa; but all the rest 
of the family were again in their usual quarters. 

Lady Bussell and Anne paid their compliments 
to them once, when Anne could not but feel that 
Uppercross was already quite alive again. Though 
neither Henrietta nor Louisa nor Charles Hay- 
ter nor Captain Wentworth were there, the room 
presented as strong a contrast as could be wished 
to the last state she had seen it in. 

Immediately surrounding Mrs. Musgrove were 
the little Harvilles, whom she was sedulously 
guarding from the tyranny of the two children 
from the Cottage, expressly arrived to amuse them. 
On one side was a table, occupied by some chatter- 
ing girls, cutting up silk and gold paper; and on 
the other were tressels and trays, bending under 
the weight of brawn and cold pies, where riotous 
boys were holding high revel ; the whole completed 
by a roaring Christmas fire, which seemed deter- 
mined to be heard, in spite of all the noise of the 
others. Charles and Mary also came in, of course, 
during their visit; and Mr. Musgrove made a 


172 


PERSUASION. 


point of paying his respects to Lady Russell, and 
sat down close to her for ten minutes, talking with 
a very raised voice, hut, from the clamor of the 
children on his knees, generally in vain. It was 
a fine fannlj^’-piece. 

Anne, judging from her own temperament, 
would have deemed such a domestic hurricane a 
had restorative of the nerves, which Louisa’s ill- 
ness must have so greatly shaken ; hut Mrs. Mus- 
grove, who got Anne near her on purpose to thank 
her most cordially, again and again, for all her 
attentions to them, concluded a short recapitula- 
tion of what she had suffered herself, hy observing, 
with a happy glance round the room, that after all 
she had gone through, nothing was so likely to do 
her good as a little quiet cheerfulness at home. 

Louisa was now recovering apace. Her mother 
could even think of her being able to join their 
party at home, before her brothers and sisters 
went to school again. The Harvilles had promised 
to come with her and stay at IJppercross, whenever 
she returned. Captain Wentworth was gone, for 
the present, to see his brother in Shropshire. 

“1 hope I shall remember, in future,^’ said 
Lady Russell, as soon as they were reseated in 
the carriage, ^^not to call at Uppercross in the 
Christmas holidays.” 

Everybody has their taste in noises as well as in 
other matters ; and sounds are quite innoxious or 
most distressing by their sort rather than their 
quantity. When Lady Russell not long after- 
wards was entering Bath on a wet afternoon, and 
driving through the long course of streets from the 


PERSUASION. 


173 


Old Bridge to Camden Place, amidst the dash of 
other carriages, the heavy rumble of carts and 
drays, the bawling of newsmen, muffin-men, and 
milkmen, and the ceaseless clink of pattens, she 
made no complaint. No; these were noises which 
belonged to the winter pleasures. Her spirits rose 
under their influence; and, like Mrs. Musgrove, 
she was feeling, though not saying, that after 
being long in the country, nothing could he so 
good for her as a little quiet cheerfulness. 

Anne did not share these feelings. She per- 
sisted in a very determined though very silent 
disinclination for Bath ; caught the first dim view 
of the extensive buildings, smoking in rain, with- 
out any wish of seeing them better; felt their 
progress through the streets to be, however dis- 
agreeable, yet too rapid, — for who would be glad 
to see her when she arrived? Anne looked back, 
with fond regret, to the bustles of Uppercross and 
the seclusion of Kellynch. 

Elizabeth’s last letter had communicated a piece 
of news of some interest. Mr. Elliot was in Bath. 
He had called in Camden Place; had called a sec- 
ond time, a third; had been pointedly attentive, — 
if Elizabeth and her father did not deceive them- 
selves, had been taking as much pains to seek the 
acquaintance, and proclaim the value of the con- 
nection, as he had formerly taken pains to show 
neglect. This was very wonderful, if it were true; 
and Lady Bussell was in a state of very agreeable 
curiosity and perplexity about Mr. Elliot, already 
recanting the sentiment she had so lately expressed 
to Mary, of his being ^^a man whom she had no 


174 


PERSUASION. 


wish to see.” She had a great wish to see him. 
If he really sought to reconcile himself like a 
dutiful branch, he must be forgiven for having 
dismembered himself from the paternal tree. 

Anne was not animated to an equal pitch by the 
circumstance; but she felt that she would rather 
see Mr. Elliot again than not, — which was more 
than she could say for many other persons in 
Bath. 

She was put down in Camden Place; and Lady 
Russell then drove to her own lodgings in River’s 
Street. 


PERSUASION. 


175 


CHAPTER XV. 

Sir Walter had taken a very good house in Cam- 
den Place, — a lofty, dignified situati9n, such as 
becomes a man of consequence; and both he and 
Elizabeth were settled there, much to their 
satisfaction. 

Anne entered it with a sinking heart, antici- 
pating an imprisonment of many months, and anx- 
iously saying to herself, ^^Oh, when shall I leave 
you again?’’ A degree of unexpected cordiality, 
however, in the welcome she received, did her 
good. Her father and sister were glad to see her, 
for the sake of showing her the house and furni- 
ture, afid met her with kindness. Her making a 
fourth, when they sat down to dinner, was noticed 
as an advantage. 

Mrs. Clay was very pleasant and very smiling; 
but her courtesies and smiles were more a matter 
of course. Anne had always felt that she would 
pretend what was proper on her arrival; but the 
complaisance of the others was unlooked for. They 
were evidently in excellent spirits, and she was 
soon to listen to the causes. They had no inclina- 
tion to listen to her. After laying out for some 
compliments of being deeply regretted in their old 
neighborhood, which Anne could not pay, they 
had only a few faint inquiries to make, before the 


176 


PERSUASION. 


talk must be all their own. Uj^percross excited 
no interest, Kellynch very little; it was all Bath. 

They had the pleasure of assuring her that Bath 
more than answered their expectations in every 
respect. Their house was undouhtedl}’- the best in 
Camden Place; their drawing-rooms had many 
decided advantages over all the others which they 
had either seen or heard of; and the superiority 
was not less in the stjde of the fitting-up, or the 
taste of the furniture. Their acquaintance was 
exceedingly sought after. Everybody was wanting 
to visit them. They had drawn back from many 
introductions, and still were perpetuall}" having 
cards left by people of whom they knew nothing. 

Here were funds of enjoj^ment! Could Anne 
wonder that her father and sister were happy? 
She might not wonder, but she must sigh that her 
father should feel no degradation in his change; 
should see nothing to regret in the duties and dig- 
nity of the resident landholder, should find so 
much to be vain of in the littlenesses of a town; 
and she must sigh, and smile, and wonder too, as 
Elizabeth threw open the folding-doors, and walked 
with exultation from one drawing-room to the 
other, boasting of their space, at the possibility 
of that woman who had been mistress of Kellynch 
Hall finding extent to be proud of between two 
walls perhaps thirty feet asunder. 

But this was not Jill which they had to make 
them happ3". They had IVIr. Elliot too. Anne 
had a great deal to hear of Mr. Elliot. He was 
not only pardoned; they were delighted with him. 
He had been in Bath about a fortnight (lie had 


PEKSUASION. 


177 


passed through Bath in November, in his way to 
London, when the intelligence of Sir Walter’s be- 
ing settled there had of course reached him though 
only twenty-four hours in the place, but he had 
not been able to avail himself of it); but he had 
now been a fortnight in Bath; and his first object, 
on arriving, had been to leave his card in Camden 
Place, following it up by such assiduous endeavors 
to meet, and, when they did meet, by such great 
openness of conduct, such readiness to apologize 
for the past, such solicitude to be received as a re- 
lation again, that their former good understanding 
was completely re-established. 

They had not a fault to find in him. He had 
explained away all the appearance of neglect on 
his own side. It had originated in misapprehen- 
sion entirely. He had never had an idea of throw- 
ing himself off. He had feared that he was thrown 
off, but knew not why; and delicacy, had kept 
him silent. Upon the hint of having spoken dis- 
respectfully or carelessly of the family and the 
family honors, he was quite indignant. He, who 
liad ever boasted of being an Elliot, and whose 
feelings as to connection were only too strict to 
suit the unfeudal tone of the present day ! He was 
astonished, indeed! But his character and general 
conduct must refute it. He could refer Sir Walter 
to all who knew him; and, certainly, the pains he 
had been taking on this, the first opportunity of 
reconciliation, to be restored to the footing of a 
relation and heir-presumptive, was a strong proof 
of his opinions on the subject. 

Tlie circumstances of his marriage, tooj were 
12 


178 


PERSUASION. 


found to admit of much extenuation. This was an 
article not to be entered on by himself; but a very 
intimate friend of his, a Colonel Wallis, a highly 
respectable man, perfectly the gentleman (and not 
an ill-looking man. Sir Walter added), who was 
living in very good style in Marlborough Build- 
ings, and had, at his own particular request, been 
admitted to their acquaintance through Mr. Elliot, 
had mentioned one or two things relative to the 
marriage, which made a material difference in the 
discredit of it. 

Colonel Wallis had known Mr. Elliot long, had 
been well acquainted also with his wife, had per- 
fectly understood the whole story. She was cer- 
tainly not a woman of family, but well educated, 
accomplished, rich, and excessively in love with 
his friend. There had been the charm. She had 
sought him. Without that attraction, not all her 
money would have tempted Elliot; and Sir Walter 
was, moreover, assured of her having been a very 
fine woman. Here was a great deal to soften the 
business. A very fine woman, with a large for- 
tune, in love with him! Sir Walter seemed to ad- 
mit it as complete apology; and though Elizabeth 
could not see the circumstance ^in quite so favora- 
ble a light, she allowed it to be a great extenuation. 

Mr. Elliot had called repeatedly; had dined with 
them once, evidently delighted by the distinction of 
being asked, for they gave no dinners in general, — 
delighted, in short, by every proof of cousinly 
notice, and placing his whole happiness in being 
on intimate terms in Camden Place, 

Anne listened, but without quite understanding 


PERSUASION. 


179 


it. Allowances, large allowances, she knew, must 
be made for the ideas of those who spoke. She 
heard it all under embellishment. All that sounded 
extravagant or irrational in the progress of the rec- 
onciliation might have no origin but in the lan- 
guage of the relators. Still, however, she had the 
sensation of there being something more than im- 
mediately appeared, in Mr. Elliot’s wishing, after 
an interval of so many j^ears, to he well received 
by them. . In a worldly view, he had nothing to 
gain by being on terms with Sir Walter, nothing 
to risk by a state of variance. In all probability 
he was already the richer of the two, and the 
Kellynch estate would as surely be his hereafter 
as the title. A sensible man, — and he had looked 
like a very sensible man, — why should it be an 
object to him? She could only offer one solution; 
it was, perhaps, for Elizabeth’s sake. There 
might really have been a liking formerly, though 
convenience and accident had drawn him a differ- 
ent way; and now that he could afford to please 
himself, he might mean to pay his addresses to her. 
Elizabeth was certainly very handsome, with well- 
bred, elegant manners; and her character might 
never have been penetrated by Mr. Elliot, know- 
ing her but in public, and when very young him- 
self. How her temper and understanding might 
bear the investigation of his present keener time 
of life was another concern, and rather a fearful 
one. Most earnestly did she wish that he might 
not be too nice or too observant, if Elizabeth were 
his object; and that Elizabeth was disposed to be- 
lieve herself so, and that lier friend, Mrs. Clay, 


180 


PERSUASION. 


was encouraging the idea, seemed apparent by a 
glance or two between them, while Mr. Elliot’s 
frequent visits were talked of. 

Anne mentioned the glimpses she had had of 
him at Lyme, but without being much attended to. 
‘^Oh, yes, perhaps it had been Mr. Elliot. They 
did not know. It might be him, perhaps.” They 
could not listen to her description of him. They 
were describing him themselves; Sir Walter es- 
pecially. He did justice to his very gentlemanlike 
appearance, his air of elegance and fashion, his 
good-shaped face, his sensible eye ; but, at the 
same time, ^^must lament his being very much 
under-hung, — a defect which time seemed to have 
increased; nor could he pretend to say that ten 
years had not altered almost every feature for the 
worse. Mr. Elliot appeared to think that he (Sir 
Walter) was looking exactly as he had done when 
they last parted but Sir Walter had ^‘not been 
able to return the compliment entirely, — which 
had embarrassed him. He did not mean to com- 
plain, however. Mr. Elliot was better to look at 
than most men, and he had no objection to being 
seen with him anywhere.” 

Mr. Elliot and his friends in Marlborough Build- 
ings were talked of the whole evening. Colonel 
Wallis had been so impatient to be introduced to 
them! and Mr. Elliot so anxious that he should! ” 
And there was a Mrs. Wallis, at present only 
known to them by description, as she was in daily 
expectation of her confinement; but Mr. Elliot 
spoke of her as a most charming woman, quite 
worthy of being known in Camden Place;” and 


PERSUASION. 


181 


as soon as she recovered, they were to be acquainted. 
Sir Walter thought much of Mrs. Wallis; she was 
said to be an excessively pretty woman, beautiful. 

He longed to see her. He hoped she might 
make some amends for the many very plain faces 
he was continually passing in the streets. The 
worst of Bath was the number of its plain women. 
He did not mean to say that there were no pretty 
women, but the number of the plain was out of all 
proportion. He had frequently observed, as he 
walked, that one handsome face would be followed 
by thirty, or five-and-thirty frights; and once, as he 
had stood in a shop in Bond Street, he had counted 
eighty-seven women go by, one after another, with- 
out there being a tolerable face among them. It 
had been a frosty morning, to be sure, a sharp frost, 
which hardly one woman in a thousand could stand 
the test of. But still, there certainly were a dread- 
ful multitude of ugly women in Bath; and as for 
the men! they were infinitely worse. Such scare- 
crows as the streets were full of! It was evident 
how little the women were used to the sight of any- 
thing tolerable, by the effect which a man of de- 
cent appearance produced. He had never walked 
anywhere arm-in-arm with Colonel Wallis (who 
was a fine military figure, though sandy-haired) 
without observing that every woman’s eye was up- 
on him; every woman’s eye was sure to be upon 
Colonel Wallis. ” Modest Sir Walter ! He was not 
allowed to escape, however. His daughter and 
Mrs. Clay united in hinting that Colonel Wallis’s 
companion might have as good a figure as Colonel 
Wallis, and certainly was not sandy-haired. 


182 


PERSUASION. 


^‘How is Mary looking said Sir Walter, in 
the height of his good-humor. The last time I 
saw her, she had a red nose, hut I hope that may 
not happen every day.’’ 

‘^Oh, no, that must have been quite accidental. 
In general, she has been in very good health 
and very good looks since Michaelmas.” 

I thought it would not tempt her to go out 
in sharp winds, and grow coarse, I would send her 
a new hat and pelisse.” 

Anne was considering whether she should ven- 
ture to suggest that a gown or a cap would not 
be liable to any such misuse,, when a knock at the 
door suspended everything. knock at the 

door! and so late! It was ten o’clock. Could it be 
Mr. Elliot? They knew he was to dine in Lans- 
down Crescent. It was possible that he might 
stop in his way home to ask them how they did. 
They could think of no one else. Mrs. Clay 
decidedly thought it Mr. Elliot’s knock.” Mrs. 
Clay was right. With all the state which a but- 
ler and footboy could give, Mr. Elliot was ushered 
into the room. 

It was the same, the very same man, with no 
difference but of dress. Anne drew a little back, 
while the others received his compliments, and 
her sister his apologies for calling at so unusual an 
hour, but ^‘he could not be so near without wish- 
ing to know that neither she nor her friend had 
taken cold the day before,” etc., etc., which was all 
as politely done and as politely taken as possible; 
but her part must follow then. Sir Walter talked 
of his youngest daughter; ^^Mr. Elliot must give 


PEKSUASION. 


183 


him leave to present him to his youngest daugh- 
ter, ” — there was no occasion for remembering 
Mary; and Anne, smiling and blushing, very 
becomingly showed to Mr. Elliot the pretty feat- 
ures which he had by no means forgotten, and 
instantly saw, with amusement at his little start 
of surprise, that he had not been at all aware of 
who she was. He looked completely astonished, 
but not more astonished than pleased. His eyes 
brightened; and with the most perfect alacrity he 
welcomed the relationship, alluded to the past, 
and entreated to he received as an acquaintance 
already. He was quite as good-looking as he had 
appeared at Lyme, his countenance improved by 
speaking; and his manners were so exactly what 
they ought to be, so polished, so easy, so particu- 
larly agreeable, that she could compare them in 
excellence to only one person’s manners. They 
were not the same, but they were, perhaps, equally 
good. 

He sat down with them, and improved their 
conversation very much. There could be no doubt 
of his being a sensible man. Ten minutes were 
enough to certify that. His tone, his expressions, 
his choice of subject, his knowing where to stop, 
— it was all the operation of a sensible, discerning 
mind. As soon as he could, he began to talk to 
her of Lyme, wanting to compare opinions respect- 
ing the place, but especiallj’’ wanting to speak of 
the circumstance of their happening to be guests 
in the same inn at the same time; to give his own 
route, understand something of hers, and regret 
that he should have lost such an opportunity of 


184 


PERSUASION. 


paying his respects to her. She gave him a short 
account of her party, and business at Lyme. His 
regret increased as he listened. He had spent his 
whole solitary evening in the room adjoining 
theirs; had heard voices, — mirth continually; 
thought they must he a most delightful set of peo- 
ple, — longed to he with them; but certainly with- 
out the smallest suspicion of his possessing the 
shadow of a right to introduce himself. If he had 
but asked who the party were! The name of Mus- 
grove would have told liim enough. ^^Well, it 
would serve to cure him of an absurd practice of 
never asking a question at an inn, which he had 
adopted, when quite a young man, on the princi- 
ple of its being very ungenteel to be curious.’’ 

The notions of a young man of one or two and 
twenty,” said he, “as to what is necessary in 
manners to make him quite the thing, are more 
absurd, I believe, than those of any other set of 
beings in the world. The folly of the means they 
often employ is only to be equalled by the folly of 
what they have in view.” 

But he must not be addressing his reflections to 
Anne alone; he knew it. He was soon diffused 
again among the others, and it was only at in- 
tervals that he could return to Lyme. 

His inquiries, however, produced at length an 
account of the scene she had been engaged in 
there, soon after his leaving the place. Having 
alluded to “an accident,” he must hear the whole. 
When he questioned. Sir Walter and Elizabeth 
began to question also; but the difference in their 
manner of doing it could not be unfelt. She 


PERSUASION. 


185 


could only compare Mr. Elliot to Lady E-ussell, in 
tlie wish of really comprehending what had passed, 
and in the degree of concern for what she must 
have suffered, in witnessing it. 

He stayed an hour with them. The elegant lit- 
tle clock on the mantelpiece had struck ‘‘eleven 
with its silver sounds, and the watchman was 
beginning to he heard at a distance telling the 
same tale, before Mr. Elliot or any of them 
seemed to feel that he had been there long. 

Anne could not have supposed it possible that 
her first evening in Camden Place could have 
passed so well! 


186 


PERSUASION. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

There was one point which Anne, on returning 
to her family, would have been more thankful to 
ascertain even than Mr. Elliot’s being in love 
with Elizabeth, which was, her father’s not being 
in love with Mrs. Clay; and she was very 
far from easy about it, when she had been at 
home a few hours. On going down to breakfast 
the next morning, she found there had just been a 
decent pretence on the lady’s side of meaning to 
leave them. She could imagine Mrs. Clay to 
have said that ^‘now Miss Anne was come, she 
could not suppose herself at all wanted;” for 
Elizabeth was replying, in a sort of whisper : 

That must not be any reason, indeed. I assure 
you I feel it none. She is nothing to me, com- 
pared with you;” and she was in full time to 
hear her father say : ^ ‘ My dear madam, this must 
not he. As yet, you have seen nothing of Bath. 
You have been here only to he useful. You must 
not run away from us now. You must stay to he 
acquainted with Mrs. Wallis, the beautiful Mrs. 
Wallis. To your fine mind, I well know the sight 
of beauty is a real gratification.” 

He spoke and looked so much in earnest that 
Anne was not surprised to see Mrs. Clay stealing 
a glance at Elizabeth and herself. Her counte- 


PERSUASION. 


187 


nance, perhaps, might express some watchfulness; 
hut the praise of the fine mind did not appear to 
excite a thought in her sister. The lady could 
not hut yield to such joint entreaties, and pro- 
mise to stay. 

In the course of the same morning, Anne and 
her father chancing to be alone together, he began 
to compliment her on her improved looks; he 
thought her ‘^ess thin in her person, in her 
cheeks; her skin, her complexion, greatly im- 
proved, — clearer, fresher. Had she been using 
anything in particular?’’ ^^NTo, nothing.” 
^‘Merely Gowland,” he supposed. ‘^No, nothing 
at all.” ^^Ha! he was surprised at that;” and 
added: Certainly jmu cannot do better than con- 

tinue as you are; you cannot he better than well; 
or I should recommend Gowland, the constant use 
of Gowland, during the spring months. Mrs. 
Clay has been using it at my recommendation, 
and you see what it has done for her. You see 
how it has carried away her freckles.” 

If Elizabeth could but have heard this ! Such 
personal praise might have struck her, especially 
as it did not appear to Anne that the freckles were 
at all lessened. But everything must take its 
chance. The evil of the marriage would be much 
diminished, if Elizabeth were also to marry. As 
for herself, she might always command a home 
with Lady Bussell. 

Lady Bussell’s composed mind and polite man- 
ners were put to ^ some trial on this point, in her 
intercourse in Camden Place. The sight of Mrs. 
Clay in such favor, and of Anne so overlooked. 


188 


PERSUASION. 


was a perpetual provocation to her there; and 
vexed her as much when she was away as a per- 
son in Bath who drinks the water gets all the new 
publications, and has a very large acquaintance, 
has time to he vexed. 

As Mr. Elliot became known to her, she grew 
more charitable, or more indifferent, towards the 
others. His manners were an immediate recommen- 
dation; and on conversing with him she found the 
solid so fully supporting the superficial that she 
was at first, as she told Anne, almost ready to ex- 
claim, Can this he Mr. Elliot?’’ and could not 
seriously picture to herself a more agreeable or 
estimable man. Everything united in him, — 
good understanding, correct opinions, knowledge 
of the world, and a warm heart. He had strong 
feelings of family attachment and family honor, 
without pride or weakness; he lived with the lib- 
erality of a man of fortune, without display; he 
judged for himself in everything essential, with- 
out defying public opinion in any point of worldly 
decorum. He was steady, observant, moderate, 
candid; never run away with by spirits or by 
selfishness, which fancied itself strong feeling; 
and yet with a sensibility to what was amiable 
and lovely, and a value for all the felicities of do- 
mestic life, which characters of fancied enthusiasm 
and violent agitation seldom really possess. She 
was sure that he had not been happy in marriage. 
Colonel Wallis said it, and Lady Russell saw it; 
but it had been no unhappiness to sour his mind, 
nor (she began pretty soon to suspect) to prevent 
his thinking of a second choice. Her satisfaction 


PERSUASION. 189 

in Mr. Elliot outweighed all the plague of Mrs. 
Clay. 

It was now some years since Anne had begun 
to learn that she and her excellent friend could 
sometimes think differently; and it did not sur- 
prise her, therefore, that Lady Eussell should see 
nothing suspicious or inconsistent, nothing to re- 
quire more motives than appeared, in Mr. Elliot’s 
great desire of a reconciliation. In Lady Eussell’s 
view, it was perfectly natural that Mr. Elliot, at a 
mature time of life, should feel it a most desirable 
object, and what would very generally recommend 
him among all sensible people, to be on good terms 
with the head of his family; the simplest process 
in the world of time upon a head naturally clear, 
and only erring in the heyday of youth. Anne 
presumed, however, still to smile about it, and at 
last to mention ^ Elizabeth.’ Lady Eussell listened 
and looked, and made only this cautious reply: 
‘^Elizabeth! very well; time will explain.” 

It was a reference to the future which Anne, 
after a little observation, felt she must submit to. 
She could determine nothing at present. In that 
house Elizabeth must be first; and she was in the 
habit of such general observance as ^‘Miss Elliot,” 
that any particularity of attention seemed almost 
impossible. Mr. Elliot, too, it must be remem- 
bered, had not been a widower seven months. A 
little delay on his side might be very excusable. 
In fact, Anne could never see the crape round his 
hat, without fearing that she was the inexcusable 
one, in attributing to him such imaginations; for 
though his marriage had not been very happy, 


190 


PERSUASION. 


still it had existed so many years that she could 
not comprehend a very rapid recovery from the 
awful impression of its being dissolved. 

However it might end, he was, without any 
question, their pleasantest acquaintance in Bath, — 
she saw nobody equal to him; and it was a great 
indulgence now and then to talk to him about 
Lyme, which he seemed to have as lively a wish to 
see again, and to see more of, as herself. They 
went through the particulars of their first meeting 
a great many times. He gave her to understand 
that he had looked at her with some earnestness. 
She knew it well; and she remembered another 
person’s look also. 

They did not always think alike. His value for 
rank and connection she perceived to be greater 
than hers. It was not merely complaisance, it 
must be a liking to the cause, which made him 
enter warmly into her father and sister’s solici- 
tudes on a subject which she thought unworthy to 
excite them. The Bath paper one morning an- 
nounced the arrival of the Dowager Viscountess 
Dalrymple, and her daughter, the Honorable Miss 
Carteret; and all the comfort of No. — Camden 
Place was swept away for many days; for the 
Dalrymples (in Anne’s opinion, most unfortu- 
nately) were cousins of the Elliots; and the agony 
was, how to introduce themselves properly. 

Anne had never seen her father and sister before 
in contact with nobility, and she must acknow- 
ledge herself disappointed. She had hoped better 
things from their high ideas of their own situa- 
tion in life, and was reduced to form a wish which 


PERSUASION. 


191 


she had never foreseen, — a wish that they had 
more pride; for ^ our cousins, Lady Dalrymple and 
Miss Carteret,’ ^our cousins, the Dalrymples,’ 
sounded in her ears all day long. 

Sir Walter had once been in company with the 
late Viscount, hut had never seen any of the rest of 
the family; and the difficulties of the case arose 
from there having been a suspension of all inter- 
course by letters of ceremony, ever since the death 
of that said late Viscount, when, in consequence 
of a dangerous illness of Sir Walter’s at the same 
time, there had been an unlucky omission at Kel- 
lynch: no letter of condolence had been sent to 
Ireland. The neglect had been visited on the 
head of the sinner; for when poor Lady Elliot 
died herself, no letter of condolence was received 
at Kellynch, and, consequently, there was but too 
much reason to apprehend that the Dalrymples 
considered the relationship as closed. How to 
have this anxious business set to rights, and 
be admitted as cousins again, was the question; 
and it was a question which, in a more rational 
manner, neither Lady Russell nor Mr. Elliot 
thought unimportant. Family connections were 
always worth preserving, good company always 
worth seeking; Lady Dalrymple had taken a house, 
for three months, in Laura Place, and would be 
living in style. She had been at Bath the year 
before, and Lady Russell had heard her spoken of 
as a charming woman. It was very desirable that 
the connection should be renewed, if it could be 
done, without any compromise of propriety on the 
side of the Elliots.” 


192 


PERSUASION. 


Sir Walter, however, would choose his own means, 
and at last wrote a very fine letter of ample 
explanation, regret, and entreaty, to his right 
honorable cousin. Neither Lady Russell nor Mr. 
Elliot could admire the letter; hut it did all that 
was wanted, in bringing three lines of scrawl from 
the Dowager Viscountess. “ She was very much 
honored, and should be happy in their acquaint- 
ance.’’ The toils of the business were over, the 
sweets began. They visited in Laura Place ; they 
had the cards of Dowager Viscountess Dairy mple, 
and the Honorable Miss Carteret, to be arranged 
wherever they might be most visible; and Our 
cousins in Laura Place,” — Our cousins. Lady 
Dalrymple and Miss Carteret,” were talked of to 
everybody. 

Anne was ashamed. Had Lady Dalrymple and 
her daughter even been very agreeable, she would 
still have been ashamed of the agitation they 
created; but they were nothing. There was no 
superiority of manner, accomplishment. Or under- 
standing. Lady Dalrymple had acquired the 
name of ^ a charming woman, ’ because she had a 
smile and a civil answer for everybody. Miss 
Carteret, with still less to say, was so plain and so 
awkward, that she would never have been toler- 
ated in Camden Place, but for her birth. 

Lady Russell confessed that she had expected 
something better; but yet “ it was an acquaintance 
worth having; ” and when Anne ventured to speak 
her opinion of them to Mr. Elliot, he agreed to 
their being nothing in themselves, but still main- 
tained that, as a family connection, as good com- 


PERSUASION. 


193 


pany, as those who would collect good company 
around them, they had their value. Anne smiled 
and said, — 

‘‘ My idea of good company, Mr. Elliot, is the 
company of clever, well-informed people, who have 
a great deal of conversation; that is what I call 
good company.’^ 

You are mistaken,^’ said he, gently; ^‘that is 
not good company, — that is the best. Good com- 
pany requires only birth, education, and manners, 
and with regard to education is not very nice. 
Birth and good manners are essential; but a lit- 
tle learning is by no means a dangerous thing in 
good company; on the contrary, it will do very 
well. My cousin Anne shakes her head. She 
is not satisfied. She is fastidious. My dear 
cousin,” sitting down by her, you have a better 
right to be fastidious than almost any other wo- 
man I know; hut will it answer? Will it make 
you happy? Will it not he wiser to accept the 
society of these good ladies in Laura Place, and 
enjoy all the advantages of the connection as far as 
possible? You may depend upon it that they will 
move in the first set in Bath this winter; and as 
rank is rank, your being known to be related to 
them will have its use in fixing your family (our 
family, let me say) in that degree of consideration 
which we must all wish for.” 

^^Yes,” sighed Anne; ^^we shall, indeed, be 
known to be related to them; ” then recollecting 
herself, and not wishing to be answered, she 
added: certainly do think there has been by 

far too much trouble taken to procure the acquaint- 
13 


194 


PERSUASION. 


ance. I suppose/’ smiling, ^‘1 have more pride 
than any of you ; but I confess it does vex me that 
we should be so solicitous to have the relation- 
ship acknowledged, which we may be very sure is 
a matter of perfect indifference to them.” 

. ‘‘ Pardon me, my dear cousin, you are unjust to 
your own claims. In London, perhaps, in your 
present quiet style of living, it might he as you 
say; hut in Bath, Sir Walter Elliot and his 
family will always he worth knowing, always 
acceptable as acquaintance.” 

^^Well,” said Anne, ‘‘I certainly am proud, 
too proud to enjoy a welcome which depends so 
entirely upon place.” 

^‘1 love your indignation,” said he; ‘‘it is very 
natural. But here you are in Bath, and the object 
is to he established here with all the credit and 
dignity which ought to belong to Sir Walter 
Elliot. You talk of being proud; I am called 
proud, I know, and I shall not wish to believe 
myself otherwise; for our pride, if investigated, 
would have the same object, I have no doubt, 
though the kind may seem a little different. In 
one point, I am sure, my dear cousin,” he contin- 
ued, speaking lower, though there was no one else 
in the room, — “in one point, I am sure, we must 
feel alike. We must feel that every addition to 
your father’s society, among his equals or superi- 
ors, may be of use in diverting his thoughts from 
those who are beneath him.” 

He looked, as he spoke, to the seat which Mrs. 
Clay had been lately occupying, — a sufficient ex- 
planation of what he particularly meant; and 


PERSUASION 


195 


though Anne could not believe in their having the 
same sort of pride, she was pleased with him for 
not liking Mrs. Clay; and her conscience admitted 
that his wishing to promote her father’s getting 
great acquaintance was more than excusable in the 
view of defeating her. 


196 


PERSUASION. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

While Sir Walter and Elizabeth were assiduously 
pushing their good fortune in Laura Place, Anne 
was renewing an acquaintance of a very different 
description. 

She had called on her former governess, and had 
heard from her of there being an old schoolfellow 
in Bath, who had the two strong claims on her 
attention, of past kindness and present suffering. 
Miss Hamilton, now Mrs. Smith, had shown her 
kindness in one of those periods of her life when it 
had been most valuable. Anne had gone unhappy 
to school, grieving for the loss of a mother whom 
she had dearly loved, feeling her separation from 
home, and suffering as a girl of fourteen, of strong 
sensibility and not high spirits, must suffer at 
such a time; and Miss Hamilton, three years 
older than herself, but still from the w'ant of near 
relations and a settled home, remaining another 
year at school, had been useful and good to her in 
a way which had considerably lessened her miserjq 
and could never be remembered with indifference. 

Miss Hamilton had left school, had married not 
long afterwards, — was said to have married a man 
of fortune ; and this was all that Anne had known 
of her, till now that their governess’s account 
brought her situation forward in a more decided 
but very different form. 


PERSUASION. 


X97 


She was a widow, and poor. Her husband had 
been extravagant; and at his death, about two 
years before, had left his affairs dreadfully in- 
volved. She had had difficulties of every sort to 
contend with, and in addition to these distresses 
had been afflicted with a severe rheumatic fever, 
which finally settling in her legs, had made her 
for the present a cripple. She had come to Bath 
on that account, and was now in lodgings near the 
hot baths, living in a very humble way, unable 
even to afford herself the comfort of a servant, and 
of course almost excluded from society. 

Their mutual friend answered for the satisfac- 
tion which a visit from Miss Elliot would give 
Mrs. Smith; and Anne, therefore, lost no time in 
going. She mentioned nothing of what she had 
heard, or what she intended, at home. It would 
excite no proper interest there. She only con- 
sulted Lady Russell, who entered thoroughly into 
her sentiments, and was most happy to convey her 
as near to Mrs. Smith’s lodgings, in Westgate 
Buildings as Anne chose to be taken. 

The visit was paid, their acquaintance re-estab- 
lished, their interest in each other more than 
rekindled. The first ten minutes had its awk- 
w^ardness and its emotion. Twelve years were gone 
since they had parted, and each presented a some- 
what different person from what the other had 
imagined. Twelve years had changed Anne from 
the blooming, silent, unformed girl of fifteen, to 
the elegant little woman of seven-and-twenty, with 
every beauty excepting bloom, and with manners 
as consciously right as they were invariably gen- 


198 


PERSUASION. 


tie; and twelve years had transformed the fine- 
looking, well-grown Miss Hamilton, in all the 
glow of health and confidence of superiority, into 
a poor, infirm, helpless widow, receiving the visit 
of her former 'protegee as a favor ; but all that was 
uncomfortable in the meeting had soon passed 
away, and left only the interesting charm of 
remembering former partialities and talking over 
old times. 

Anne found in Mrs. Smith the good sense and 
agreeable manners which she had almost ventured 
to depend on, and a disposition to converse and 
be cheerful beyond her expectation. Neither the 
dissipations of the past — and she had lived very 
much ill the world — nor the restrictions of the 
present, neither sickness nor sorrow, seemed to 
have closed her heart or ruined her spirits. 

In the course of a second visit she talked with 
great openness, and Anne’s astonishment increased. 
She could scarcely imagine a more cheerless situa- 
tion in itself than Mrs. Smith’s. She had been 
very fond of her husband, — she had buried him. 
She had been used to affluence, — it was gone. She 
had no child to connect her with life and happiness 
again, no relations to assist in the arrangement of 
perplexed affairs, no health to make all the rest 
supportable. Her accommodations were limited to 
a noisy parlor, and a dark bedroom behind, with 
no possibility of moving from one to the other 
without assistance, which there was only one ser- 
vant in the house to afford; and she never quitted 
the house but to be conveyed into the warm bath. 
Yet in spite of all this, Anne had reason to be- 


PERSUASION. 


199 


lieve that she had moments only of languor and 
depression, to hours of occupation and enjoyment. 
How could it be? She watched, observed, reflected, 
and finally determined that this was not a case of 
fortitude or of resignation only. A submissive 
spirit might be patient, a strong understanding 
would supply resolution; but here was something 
more, — here was that elasticity of mind, that dis- 
position to be comforted, that power of turning 
readily from evil to good, and of finding employ- 
ment which carried her out of herself, which was 
from nature alone. It was the choicest gift of 
Heaven; and Anne viewed her friend as one of 
those instances in which, by a merciful appoint- 
ment, it seems designed to counterbalance almost 
every other want. 

There had been a time, Mrs. Smith told her, 
when her spirits had nearly failed. She could not 
call herself an invalid now, compared with her 
state on first reaching Bath. Thenx she had, 
indeed, been a pitiable object; for she h^d caught 
cold on the journey, and had hardly takek posses- 
sion of her lodgings, before she was again confined 
to her bed, and suffering under severe and 
constant pain, — and all this among strangers, 
with the absolute necessity of having a regular 
nurse, and finances at that moment particularly 
unfit to meet any extraordinary expense. She had 
weathered it, however, and could truly say that it 
had done her good. It had increased her comforts 
by making her feel herself to be in good hands. 
She had seen too much of the world to expect sud- 
den or disinterested attachment anywhere ; but her 


200 


PERSUASION. 


illness had proved to her that her landlady had a 
character to preserve, and would not use her ill; 
and she had been particularly'- fortunate in her 
nurse, as a sister of her landlady, a nurse by pro- 
fession, and who had always a home in that house 
when unemployed, chanced to he at liberty just in 
time to attend her. ‘^And she, said Mrs. 
Smith, ‘‘besides nursing me most admirably, has 
really proved an invaluable acquaintance. As 
soon as I could use my hands, she taught me to 
knit, which has been a great amusement; and she 
put me in the way of making these little thread- 
cases, pin-cushions, and card-racks, which you 
always find me so busy about, and which supply 
me with the means of doing a little good to one or 
two very poor families in this neighborhood. She 
has a large acquaintance, of course professionally, 
among those who can afford to buy, and she dis- 
poses of my merchandise. She always takes the 
right time for applying. Everybody's heart is 
open, you know, when they have recently escaped 
from severe pain, or are recovering the blessing of 
health, and Nurse Eooke thoroughly understands 
when to speak. She is a shrewd, intelligent,! sen- 
sible woman. Hers is a line for seeing human 
nature ; and she has a fund of good sense and ob- 
servation, which, as a companion, make her infi- 
nitely superior to thousands of those who, having 
only received ‘the best education in the world,’ 
know nothing worth attending to. Call it gossip, 
if you will; but when Nurse Eooke has half-an- 
hour’s leisure to bestow on me, she is sure to have 
something to relate that is entertaining and profit- 


PERSUASION. 


201 


able, something that makes one know one’s species 
better. One likes to hear what is going on, to be 
au fait as to the newest modes of being trifling 
and silly. To me, who live so much alone, her 
conversation, I assure you, is a treat.” 

Anne, far from wishing to cavil at the pleasure, 
replied: “ I can easily believe it. Women of that 
class have great opportunities, and if they are in- 
telligent may be well worth listening to. Such 
varieties of human nature as they are in the habit 
of witnessing! And it is not merely in its follies 
that they are well read; for they see it occasionally 
under every circumstance that can be most inter- 
esting or affecting. What instances must pass 
before them of ardent, disinterested, self-denying 
attachment, of heroism, fortitude, patience, resig- 
nation, — of all the conflicts and all the sacrifices 
that ennoble us most! A sibk::clmmber may often 
furnish the worth of volumes.” 

^‘Yes,” said Mrs. Smith, more doubtingly; 
‘^sometimes it may, though I fear its lessons are 
not often in the elevated style you describe. Here 
and there human nature may be great in times of 
trial; but, generally speaking, it is its weakness 
and not its strength that appears in a sick-cham- 
ber. It is selfishness and impatience, rather than 
generosity and fortitude, that one hears of. There 
is so little real friendship in the world; and unfor- 
tunately,” speaking low and tremulously, ‘Hhere 
are so many who forget to think seriously till it is 
almost too late.” 

Anne saw the misery of such feelings. The 
husband had not been what he ought, and the 


202 


PERSUASION. 


wife had been led among that part of mankind 
“which made her think worse of the world than she 
hoped it deserved. It was hut a passing emotion, 
however, with Mrs. Smith; she shook it off, and 
soon added, in a different tone, — 

do not suppose the situation my friend Mrs. 
Hooke is in at present will furnish much either to 
interest or edify me. She is only nursing Mrs. 
Wallis of Marlborough Buildings, — a mere pretty, 
silly, expensive, fashionable woman, I believe, — 
and of course will have nothing to report hut of 
lace and finery. I mean to make my profit of 
Mrs. Wallis, however. She has plenty of money, 
and I intend she shall buy all the high-priced 
things I have in hand now.” 

Anne had called several times on her friend, 
before the existence of such a person was known in 
Camden Place. At last it became necessary to 
speak of her. Sir Walter, Elizabeth, and Mrs. 
Clay returned one morning from Laura Place, 
with a sudden invitation from Lady Dalrymple for 
the same evening, and Anne was already engaged 
to spend that evening in Westgate Buildings. 
She was not sorry for the excuse. They were only 
asked, she was sure, because Lady Dalrymple, 
being kept at home by a bad cold, was glad to 
make use of the relationship which had been so 
pressed on her; and she declined on her own ac- 
count with great alacrity, — She was engaged to 
spend the evening with an old schoolfellow.” 
They were not much interested in anything rela- 
tive to Anne ; but still there were questions enough 
asked, to make it understood what this old school- 


PERSUASION. 


203 


fellow was ; and Elizabeth was disdainful, and Sir 
Walter severe. 

^^Westgate Buildings! said he; ^^and who is 
Miss Anne Elliot to be visiting in Westgate 
Buildings? A Mrs. Smith. A widow Mrs. Smith, 
— and who was her husband? One of the five 
thousand Mr. Smiths whose names are to be met 
with everywhere. And what is her attraction? 
That she is old and sickly. Upon my word. Miss 
Anne Elliot, you have the most extraordinary 
taste! Everything that revolts other people, — 
low company, paltry rooms, foul air, disgusting 
associations, are inviting to you. But surely 
you may put off this old lady till to-morrow; she 
is not so near her end, I presume, but that she 
may hope to see another day. What is her age? 
Forty ? ” 

^^No, sir, she is not one-and-thirty ; but I do not 
think I can put off my engagement, because it is 
the only evening for some time which will at once 
suit her and myself. She goes into the warm bath 
to-m'orrow ; and for the rest of the week, you know, 
we are engaged.’’ 

^‘But what does Lady Bussell think of this 
acquaintance? ” asked Elizabeth. 

She sees nothing to blame in it,” replied 
Anne; ^^on the contrary, she approves it, and has 
generally taken me, when I have called on Mrs. 
Smith. ” 

Westgate Buildings must have been rather 
surprised by the appearance of a carriage drawn up 
near its pavement!” observed Sir Walter. ^‘Sir 
Henry Bussell’s widow, indeed, has no honors to 


204 


PERSUASION. 


distinguish her arms; but still, it is a handsome 
equipage, and no doubt is well known to convey a 
Miss Elliot. A widow Mrs. Smith, lodging in 
Westgate Buildings! A poor widow, barely able 
to live, between thirty and forty, — a mere Mrs. 
Smith, — an every-da}^ Mrs. Smith, of all people 
and all names in the world, to be the chosen friend 
of Miss Anne Elliot, and to be preferred by her to- 
her own familj'^ connections among the nobility of 
England and Ireland! Mrs. Smith, — such a 
name! ’’ 

Mrs. Clay, who had been present while all this 
passed, now thought it advisable to leave the 
room; and Anne could have said much, and did 
long to say a little, in defence of her friend’s not 
very dissimilar claims to theirs; but her sense of 
personal respect to her father prevented her. She 
made no reply. She left it to himself to recollect 
that Mrs. Smith was not the only widow in Bath 
between thirty and forty, with little to live on, 
and no surname of dignity. 

Anne kept her appointment; the others kept 
theirs, and of course she heard the next morning 
that they had had a delightful evening. She had 
been the only one of the set absent; for Sir Walter 
and Elizabeth had not only been quite at her 
Ladyship’s service themselves, but had actually 
been happy to be employed by her in collecting 
others, and had been at the trouble of inviting 
both Lady Bussell and Mr. Elliot; and Mr. Elliot 
had made a point of leaving Colonel Wallis early, 
and Lady Bussell had fresh arranged all her even- 
ing engagements, in order to wait on her. Anne 


PERSUASION. 


205 


had the whole history of all that such an evening 
could supply from Lady Eussell. To her its 
greatest interest must he in having been very 
much talked of between her friend and Mr. Elliot ; 
in having been wished for, regretted, and at the 
same time honored for staying away in such a 
cause. Her kind, compassionate visits to this old 
schoolfellow, sick and reduced, seemed to have 
quite delighted Mr. Elliot. He thought her a 
most extraordinary young woman; in her temper, 
manners, mind, a model of female excellence. He 
could meet even Lady Eussell in a discussion of 
her merits; and Anne could not be given to under- 
stand so much by her friend, could not know her- 
self to be so highly rated by a sensible man, 
without many of those agreeable sensations which 
her friend meant to create. ^ 

Lady Eussell was now perfectly decided in her 
opinion of Mr. Elliot. She was as much convinced 
of his meaning to gain Anne in time, as of his 
deserving her; and was beginning to calculate the 
number of weeks which would free him from all 
the remaining restraints of widowhood, and leave 
him at liberty to exert his most open powers of 
pleasing. She would not speak to Anne with half 
the certainty she felt on the subject; she would 
venture on little more than hints of what might be 
hereafter, of a possible attachment on his side; of 
the desirableness of the alliance, supposing such 
attachment to be real and returned. Anne heard 
her, and made no violent exclamations; she only 
smiled, blushed, and gently shook her head. 

“I am no match-maker, as you well know,” 


206 


PERSUASION. 


said Lady Kussell, being much too well aware of 
the uncertainty of all human events and calcula- 
tions. I only mean that if Mr. Elliot should some 
time hence pay his addresses to you, and if you 
should be disposed to accept him, I think there 
would be every possibility of your being happy 
together. A most suitable connection everybody 
must consider itj but I think it might be a very 
happy one. ’’ 

“Mr. Elliot is an exceedingly agreeable man, 
and in many respects I think highly of him,^^ 
said Anne; “but we should not suit.^^ 

Lady Kussell let this pass, and only said in 
rejoinder: “ I own that to be able to regard you as 
the future mistress of Kellynch, the future Lady 
Elliot, — to look forward and see you occupying your 
dear mother’s place, succeeding to all her rights 
and all her popularity, as well as to all her virtues, 
— would be the highest possible gratification to 
me. You are your mother’s self in countenance 
and disposition; and if I might be allowed to fancy 
you such as she was, in situation and name and 
home; presiding and blessing in the same spot, 
and only superior to her in being more highly 
valued! My dearest Anne, it would give me 
more delight than is often felt at my time of 
life! '' 

Anne was obliged to turn away, to rise, to walk 
to a distant table, and, leaning there in pretended 
employment, try to subdue the feelings this pic- 
ture excited. For a few moments her imagination 
and her heart were bewitched. The idea of becom- 
ing what her mother had been ; of having the pre- 


PERSUASION. 


207 


cions name of Ladj^ Elliot’’ first revived in herself j 
of being restored to Kellynch, calling it her home 
again, her home forever, v.'as a charm which she 
could not immediately resist. Lady Kussell said 
not another word, willing to leave the matter to its 
owm operation; and believing that, could Mr. Elliot 
at that moment with propriety have spoken for 
himself! — she believed, in short, what Anne did 
not believe. The same image of Mr, Elliot speak- 
ing for himself brought Anne to composure again. 
The charm of Kellynch and of “ Lady Elliot ” all 
faded aw^ay. She never could accept him. And 
it was not only that her feelings were still adverse 
to any man save one; her judgment, on a seri- 
ous consideration of the possibilities of such a 
case, was against Mr. Elliot. 

Though they had now heerr-acipiainted a month, 
she could not be satisfied that she really knew his 
character. That he was a sensible man, an agree- 
able man ; that he talked well, professed good opin- 
ions, seemed to judge properly and as a man of 
principle, — this was all clear enough. He cer- 
tainly knew what was right, nor could she fix on 
any one article of moral duty evidently trans- 
gressed; but yet she would have been afraid to 
answer for his conduct. She distrusted the past, 
if not the present. The names which occasionally 
dropped of former associates, the allusions to for- 
mer practices and pursuits, suggested suspicions 
not favorable of what he had been. She saw that 
there had been bad habits; that Sunday-travelling 
had been a common thing; that there had been a 


208 


PERSUASION. 


period of his life (and probably not a short one) 
when he had been, at least, careless on all seri- 
ous matters; and though he might now think 
very differently, who could answer for the true 
sentiments of a clever, cautious man, grown old 
enough to appreciate a fair character? How could 
it ever be ascertained that his mind was truly 
cleansed ? 

Mr Elliot was rational, discreet, polished; but 
he was not open. There was never any burst of 
feeling, any warmth of indignation or delight, at 
the evil or good of others. This, to Anne, was a 
decided imperfection. Her early impressions were 
incurable. She prized the frank, the open-hearted, 
the eager character beyond all others. Warmth 
and enthusiasm did captivate her still. She felt 
that she could so much more depend upon the sin- 
cerity of those who sometimes looked or said a 
careless or a hasty thing, than of those whose pres- 
ence of mind never varied, whose tongue never 
slipped. 

Mr. Elliot was too generally agreeable. Various 
as were the tempers in her father’s house, he 
pleased them all. He endured too well, stood too 
well with everybody. He had spoken to her with 
some degree of openness of Mrs. Clay; had appeared 
completely to see what Mrs. Clay was about, and 
to hold her in contempt; and yet Mrs. Clay found 
him as agreeable as anybody. 

Lady Russell saw either less or more than her 
young friend, for she saw nothing to excite dis- 
trust. She could not imagine a man more exactly 


PERSUASION. 


209 


what he ought to be than Mr. Elliot; nor did she 
ever enjoy a sweeter feeling than the hope of see- 
ing him receive the hand of her beloved Anne in 
Kellynch church, in the course of the following 
autumn. 


210 


PERSUASION. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

It was the beginning of February; and Anne, hav- 
ing been a month in Bath, was growing very eager 
for news from Uppercross and Lyme. She wanted 
to hear much more than Mary communicated. It 
was three weeks since she had heard at all. She 
only knew that Henrietta was at home again, and 
that Louisa, though considered to he recovering fast, 
was still at Lyme ; and she was thinking of them 
all very intently one evening, when a thicker let- 
ter than usual from Mary was delivered to her; 
and, to quicken the pleasure and surprise, with Ad- 
miral and Mrs. Croft’s compliments. 

The Crofts must be in Bath! A circumstance 
to interest her. They were people whom her heart 
turned to very naturally. 

‘^What is this?” cried Sir Walter. ^^The 
Crofts arrived in Bath? The Crofts who rent 
Kellynch? What have they brought you?” 

A letter from Uppercross Cottage, sir.” 

‘^Oh! those letters are convenient passports. 
They secure an introduction. I should have vis- 
ited Admiral Croft, however, at any rate. I know 
what is due to my tenant.” 

Anne could listen no longer; she could not even 
have told how the poor Admiral’s complexion es- 
caped; her letter engrossed her. It had been begun 
several days hack. 


PERSUASION. 


211 


February 1, . 

My dear Anne, — I make no apology for my silence, 
because I know how little people think of letters in such 
a place as Bath. You must be a great deal too happy to 
care for Uppercross, which, as you well know, affords little 
to write about. We have had a very dull Christmas; 
IVlr. and Mrs. Musgrove have not had one dinner-party all 
the holidays. I do not reckon the Hayters as anybody. 
The holidays, however, are over at last: I believe no 
children ever had such long ones ; I am sure I had not. 
The house was cleared yesterday, except of the little 
Harvilles; but you will be surprised to hear that they 
have never gone home. Mrs. Harville must be an odd 
mother to part with them so long. I do not understand 
it. They are not at all nice children, in my opinion; 
but Mrs. Musgrove seems to like them quite as well 
if not better than her grandchildren. What dreadful 
weather we have had I It may not be felt in Bath, with 
your nice pavements ; but in the country it is of some 
consequence. I have not had a creature call on me 
since the second week in January, except Charles Hay- 
ter, who has been calling much oftener than was welcome. 
Between ourselves, I think it a great pity Henrietta did 
not remain at Lyme as long as Louisa ; it would have 
kept her a little out of his way. The carriage is gone to- 
day, to bring Louisa and the Harvilles to-morrow. We 
are not asked to dine with them, however, till the day 
after, Mrs. Musgrove is so afraid of her being fatigued 
by the journey, — which is not very likely, considering the 
care that will be taken of her ; and it would be much 
more convenient to me to dine there to-morrow I am 
glad you find Mr. Elliot so agreeable, and wish I could 
be acquainted with him too ; but I have my usual luck, — 
I am always out of the way when anything desirable is 
going on ; always the last of my family to be noticed. 
What an immense time Mrs. Clay has been staying with 
Elizabeth 1 Does she never mean to go away ? But, 


212 


PERSUASION. 


perhaps, if she were to leave the room vacant, we might 
not be invited. Let me know what you think of this. I 
do not expect my children to be asked, you know. I can 
leave them at the Great House very well, for a month or 
six weeks. I have this moment heard that the Crofts 
are going to Bath almost immediately; they think the 
Admiral gouty. Charles heard it quite by chance ; they 
have not had the civility to give me any notice, or offer 
to take anything. I do not think they improve at all as 
neighbors. We see nothing of them, and this is really 
an instance of gross inattention. Charles joins me in 
love and everything proper. 

Yours affectionately, Mary M . 

I am sorry to say that I am very far from well ; and 
Jemima has just told me that the butcher says there is a 
bad sore-throat very much about. 1 dare say I shall 
catch it ; and my sore-throats, you know, are always 
worse than anybody’s. 

So ended the first part, which had been after- 
wards put into an envelope, containing nearly as 
much more. 

I kept my letter open, that I might send you word how 
Louisa bore her journey, and now I am extremely glad 
I did, having a great deal to add. In the first place, I 
had a note from Mrs. Croft yesterday, offering to convey 
anything to you ; a very kind, friendly note indeed, ad- 
dressed to me, just as it ought ; I shall therefore be 
able to make my letter as long as I like. The Admiral 
does not seem very ill, and I sincerely hope Bath will do 
him all the good he wants. I shall be truly glad to have 
them back again. Our neighborhood cannot spare such 
a pleasant family. But now for Louisa. I have some- 
thing to communicate that will astonish you not a little. 
She and the Harvilles came on Tuesday very safely, and 


PERSUASION. 


213 


in the evening we went to ask her how she did, when we 
were rather surprised not to find Captain Benwick of the 
party, for he had been invited as well as the Harvilles ; 
and what, do you think was the reason? Neither more 
nor less than his being in love with Louisa, and not 
choosing to venture to Uppercross till he had had an an- 
swer from Mr. Musgrove ; for it was all settled between 
him and her before she came away, and he had written 
to her father by Captain Harville. True, upon my 
honor. Are not you astonished ? I shall be surprised at 
least if you ever received a hint of it; for I never did, 
j\lrs. Musgrove protests solemnly that she knew nothing 
of the matter. We are all very well pleased, however; 
for though it is not equal to her marrying Captain Went- 
worth, it is infinitely better than Charles Hayter ; and 
Mr. Musgrove has written his consent, and Captain Ben- 
wick is expected to-day. Mrs. Harville says her hus- 
band feels a good deal on his poor sister’s account ; but, 
however, Louisa is a great favorite with both. Indeed, 
Mrs. Harville and I quite agree that we love her the bet- 
ter for having nursed her. Charles wonders what Captain 
Wentworth will say; but if you remember, I never 
thought him attached to Louisa, — I never could see any- 
thing of it. And this is the end, you see, of Captain 
Benwick’s being supposed to be an admirer of yours. 
How Charles could take such a thing into his head was 
always incomprehensible to me. I hope he will be more 
agreeable now. Certainly not a great match for Louisa 
IMusgrove ; but a million times better than marrying 
among the Hayters. 

Mary need not have feared her sister’s being in 
any degree prepared for tlie news. She had never 
in her life been more astonished. Captain Ben- 
wick and Louisa Musgrove! It was almost too 
wonderful for belief; and it was with the greatest 


214 


PERSUASION. 


effort that she could remain in the room, preserve 
an air of calmness, and answer the common ques- 
tions of the moment. Happily for her, they w^ere 
not many. Sir Walter wanted to know whether 
the Crofts travelled with four horses, and whether 
they were likely to be situated in such a part of 
Bath as it might suit Miss Elliot and himself to 
visit in; but had little curiosity beyond. 

^‘How is Mary?’’ said Elizabeth; and without 
waiting for an answer, And pray what brings the 
Crofts to Bath?” 

^‘They come on the Admiral’s account. He is 
thought to he gouty.” 

‘‘Gout .and decrepitude!” said Sir Walter. 
“Poor old gentleman.” 

“Have they any acquaintance here?” asked 
Elizabeth. 

“I do not know'; but I can hardly suppose that, 
at Admiral Croft’s time of life, and in his profes- 
sion, he should not have many acquaintance in 
such a place as this.” 

“I suspect,” said Sir AValter, coolly, “that 
Admiral Croft will he best known in Bath as the 
renter of Kellynch Hall. Elizabeth, may we ven- 
ture to present him and his wife in Laura Place? ” 

“ Oh, no; I think not. Situated as we are with 
Lady Dalrymple, cousins, we ought to be very 
careful not to embarrass her wdth acquaintance she 
might not approve. If w'e were not related, it 
w'ould not signify; but as cousins, she would feel 
scrupulous as to any proposal of ours. We had 
better leave the Crofts to find their own level. 
There are several odd-looking men w^alking about 


PERSUASION. 215 

here, who, I am told, are sailors. The Crofts will 
associate with them.’’ 

This was Sir Walter and Elizabeth’s share of 
interest in the letter; when Mrs. Clay had paid her 
tribute of more decent attention, in an inquiry 
after Mrs. Charles Musgrove and her fine little 
boys, Anne was at liberty. 

In her own room she tried to comprehend it. 
Well might Charles wonder how Captain Went- 
worth would feel! Perhaps he had quitted the 
field, had given Louisa up, had ceased to love, 
had found he did not love her She could not 
endure the idea of treachery or levity, or anything 
akin to ill-usage between him and his friend. She 
could not endure that such a friendship as theirs 
should be severed unfairly. 

Captain Benwick and Louisa Musgrove! The 
high-spirited, joyous-talking Louisa Musgrove, and 
the dejected, thinking, feeling, reading Captain 
Benwick seemed each of them everything that 
would not suit the other. Their minds most dis- 
similar! Where could have been the attraction? 
The answer soon presented itself. It had been in 
situation. They had been thrown together several 
weeks; they had been living in the same small 
family party; since Henrietta’s coming away, they 
must have been depending almost entirely on each 
other; and Louisa, just recovering from illness, 
had been in an interesting state, and Captain Ben- 
wick was not inconsolable. That was a point 
which Anne had not been able to avoid suspecting 
before ; and instead of drawing the same conclusion 
as Mary, from the present course of events, they 


216 


PERSUASION. 


served only to confirm the idea of his having felt 
some dawning of tenderness towards herself. She 
did not mean, however, to derive much more from 
it to gratify her vanity than Mary might have 
allowed. She was persuaded that any tolerably 
pleasing jmung woman who had listened and 
seemed to feel for him would have received the 
same compliment. He had an affectionate heart. 
He must love somebody. 

She saw no reason against their being happy. 
Louisa had fine naval fervor to begin with, and 
they would soon grow more alike. He would gain 
cheerfulness, and she would learn to be an enthu- 
siast for Scott and Lord Byron; nay, that was 
probably learned already; of course they had fallen 
in love over poetry. The idea of Louisa Musgrove 
turned into a person of literary taste and senti- 
mental reflection was amusing, but she had no 
doubt of its being so. The day at Lyme, the fall 
from the Cobh, might influence her health, her 
nerves, her courage, her character to the end of her 
life, as thoroughly as it appeared to have influ- 
enced her fate. 

The conclusion of the whole was, that if the 
woman who had been sensible of Captain Went- 
worth’s merits could he allowed to prefer another 
man, there was nothing in the engagement to 
excite lasting wonder; and if Captain Wentworth 
lost no friend by it, certainly nothing to he re-' 
gretted. No, it was not regret which made Anne’s 
heart heat in spite of herself, and brought the 
color into her cheeks when she thought of Captain 
Wentworth unshackled and free. She had some 


PERSUASION. 217 

feelings wliich she was ashamed to investigate. 
They were too much like joy, senseless joy! 

She longed to see the Crofts; hut when the 
meeting took place, it was evident that no rumor 
of the news had yet reached them. The visit of 
ceremony was paid and returned; and Louisa Mus- 
grove was mentioned and Captain Benwick, too, 
without even half a smile. 

The Crofts had placed themselves in lodgings in 
Gay Street, perfectly to Sir Walter’s satisfaction. 
He was not at all ashamed of the acquaintance, 
and did, in fact, think and talk a great deal more 
about the Admiral than the Admiral ever thought 
or talked about him. 

The Crofts knew quite as many people in Bath 
as they wished for, and considered their intercourse 
with the Elliots as a mere matter of form, and not 
in the least likely to afford them any pleasure. 
They brought with them their country habit of 
being almost always together. He was ordered to 
walk, to keep off the gout, and Mrs. Croft seemed 
to go shares with him in everything, and to walk 
for her life, to do him good. Anne saw them 
wherever she went. Lady Bussell took her out in 
her carriage almost every morning, and she never 
failed to think of them, and never failed to see 
them. Knowing their feelings as she did, it was 
a most attractive picture of happiness to her. She 
always watched them as long as she could; de- 
lighted to fancy she understood what they might 
be talking of, as they walked along in happy inde- 
pendence, or equally delighted to see the Admiral’s 
hearty shake of the hand when he encountered an 


218 


PERSUASION. 


oil friend, and observe their eagerness of conver- 
sation when occasionally forming into a little knot 
of the navy, Mrs. Croft looking as intelligent and 
keen as any of the officers around her. 

Anne was too much engaged with Lady Kussell 
to be often walking herself; but it so happened 
that one morning, about a week or ten days after 
the Crofts’ arrival, it suited her best to leave her 
friend, or her friend’s carriage, in the lower part 
of the town, and return alone to Camden Place; 
and in walking up Milsom Street, she had the 
good fortune to meet with the Admiral. He was 
standing by himself, at a printshop window, with 
his hands behind him, in earnest contemplation of 
some print, and she not only might have passed 
him unseen, but was obliged to touch as well as 
address him before she could catch his notice. 
When he did perceive and acknowledge her, how- 
ever, it was done with all his usual frankness and 
good-humor. ^‘Ha! is it you? Thank you, thank 
you. This is treating me like a friend. Here I 
am, you see, staring at a picture. I can never get 
by this shop without stopping; but what a thing 
here is, by way of a boat. Do look at it. Did 
you ever see the like? What queer fellows your 
line painters must be, to think that an^ffiody would 
venture their lives in such a shapeless old cockle- 
shell as that? And yet, here are two gentlemen 
stuck up in it mightily at their ease, and looking 
about them at the rocks and mountains, as if they 
were not to be upset the next moment, which they 
certainly must be. I wonder where that boat was 
built! ” laughing heartily, — I would not venture 


PERSUASION. 


219 


over a liorsepond in it. Well,’^ turning away, 
‘^now where are you bound? Can I go anywhere 
for you or with you? Can I be of any use? 

‘‘None, I thank you, unless you will give me 
the pleasure of your company the little way our 
road lies together. I am going home.’’ 

“That I will, with all my heart, and farther 
too. Yes, yes, we will have a snug walk to- 
gether; and I have something to tell you as we go 
along. There, take my arm, — that ’s right; I do 
not feel comfortable if I have not a woman there. 
Lord! what a boat it is! ” taking a last look at 
the picture, as they began to be in motion. 

“Did you say that you had something to tell 
me, sir ? ” 

“Yes, I have, presently. But here comes a 
friend. Captain Brigden; I shall only say, ‘How 
d’ye do? ’ as we pass, however. I shall not stop. 
‘How d’ye do?’ Brigden stares to see anybody 
with me but my wife. She, poor soul, is tied by 
the leg. She has a blister on one of her heels as 
large as a three-shilling piece. If you look across 
the street, you will see Admiral Brand coming 
down and his brother. Shabby fellows, both of 
them! I am glad they are not on this side of the 
way. Soph}’- cannot bear them. They pla3^ed me 
a pitiful trick once, — got away some of my best 
men. I will tell you the whole story another 
time. There comes old Sir Archibald Drew and 
his grandson. Look, he sees us; he kisses his 
hand to you; he takes you for my wife. Ah! 
the peace has come too soon for that younker. Poor 
old Sir Archibald! How do you like Bath, Miss 


220 


PEKSUASION. 


Elliot? It suits us very well. We are alwa^^s 
meeting with some old friend or other; the streets 
full of them every morning; sure to have plenty 
of chat; and then we get away from them all, 
and shut ourselves into our lodgings, and draw in 
our chairs, and are as snug as if we were at Kel- 
lynch, ay, or as we used to be even at North 
Yarmouth and Deal. We do not like our lodg- 
ings here the worse, I can tell you, for putting us 
in mind of those we first had at North Yarmouth. 
The wind blows through one of the cupboards just 
in the same way.’^ 

When they were got a little farther, Anne 
ventured to press again for what he had to com- 
municate. She had hoped when clear of Milsom 
Street to have her curiosity gratified; but she 
was still obliged to wait, for the Admiral had 
made up his mind not to begin till they had 
gained the greater space and quiet of Belmont; 
and as she was not really Mrs. Croft, she must 
let him have his own way. As soon as they were 
fairly ascending Belmont, he began, — 

“ Well, now you shall hear something that will 
surprise you. But first of all, you must tell me 
the name of the young lady I am going to talk 
about. That young lady, you know, that we have 
all been so concerned for. The Miss Musgrove 
that all this has been happening to. Her Chris- 
tian name, — I alwa^'s forget her Christian 
name.” 

Anne had been ashamed to appear to compre- 
hend so soon as she really did; hut now she 
could safely suggest the name of ^‘Louisa.” 


PERSUASION. 


221 


^^Ay, ay, Miss Louisa Musgrove; that is the 
name. I wish young ladies had not such a num- 
ber of fine Christian names. I should never be 
out if they were all Sophys, or something of that 
sort. Well, this Miss Louisa, we all thought, 
you know, was to marry Frederick. He was 
courting her week after week. The only wonder 
was, what they could be waiting for, till the busi- 
ness at Lyme came; then, indeed, it was clear 
enough that they must wait till her brain was set 
to right. But even then, there was something 
odd in their way of going on. Instead of staying 
at Lyme, he went off to Plymouth; and then he 
went off to see Edward. When we came hack from 
Minehead, he was gone down to Edward’s, and 
there he has been ever since; we have seen noth- 
ing of him since November. Even Sophy could 
not understand it. But now, the matter has 
taken the strangest turn of all; for this young 
lady, this same Miss Musgrove, instead of being 
to marry Frederick, is to marry James Benwick. 
You know James Benwick.” 

A little. I am a little acquainted with Cap- 
tain Benwick.” 

^‘Well, she is to marry him. Nay, most likely 
they are married alreadj'-, for I do not know what 
they should wait for.” 

I thought Captain Benwick a very pleasing 
young man,” said Anne; “and I understand that 
he bears an excellent character.” 

“Oh, yes, yes; there is. not a word to be said 
against James Benwick. He is only a com- 
mander, it is true, made last summer, and these 


222 


PERSUASION. 


are bad times for getting on; but he has not an- 
other fault that I know of. An excellent good- 
hearted fellow, I assure you; a very active, zeal- 
ous officer too, which is more than you would 
think for, perhaps, for that sort of manner does 
not do him justice.’^ 

Indeed, you are mistaken there, sir; I should 
never augur want of spirit from Captain Benwiek’s 
manners. I thought them particularly pleasing, 
and I will answer for it they would generally 
please.’’ 

“Well, well, ladies are the best judges; but 
James Benwick is rather too piano for me; and 
though very likely it is all our partiality, Sophy 
and I cannot help thinking Frederick’s manners 
better than his. There is something about Fred- 
erick more to our taste.” 

Anne was caught. She had only meant to op- 
pose the too common idea of spirit and gentleness 
being incompatible with each other, not at all to 
represent Captain Benwick’s manners as the very 
best that could possibly be; and after a little 
hesitation, she was beginning to say, “I was not 
entering into any comparison of the two friends; ” 
but the Admiral interrupted her with, — 

“And the thing is certainly true. It is not 
a mere bit of gossip. We have it from Frederick 
himself. His sister had a letter from him yester- 
day, in which he tells us of it, and he had just 
had it in a letter from Harville, written upon the 
spot, from Uppercross. I fancy they are all at 
Uppercross.” 

This was an opportunity which Anne could not re- 


PERSUASION. 


223 


Sist; she said, therefore: hope, Admiral, I hope 

there is nothing in the style of Captain Wentworth’s 
letter to make you and Mrs. Croft particularly un- 
easy. It did certainly seem, last autumn, as if there 
were an attachment between him and Louisa Mus- 
grove ; but I hope it may be understood to have worn 
out on each side equall}’’ and without violence. I 
hope his letter does not breathe the spirit of an 
ill-used man.” 

/ ‘‘Not at all, not at all; there is not an oath 
or a murmur from beginning to end.” 

Anne looked down to hide her smile. 

“No, no; Frederick is not a man to whine and 
complain, — he has too much spirit for that. If 
the girl likes another man better, it is very fit she 
should have him.” 

“Certainly. But what I mean is, that I hope 
there is nothing in Captain Wentworth’s manner 
of writing to make you suppose he thinks himself 
ill-used by his friend, which might appear, you 
know, without its being absolutely said. I should 
be very sorry that such a friendship as has sub- 
sisted between him and Captain Benwick should 
be destroyed, or even wounded, by a circumstance 
of this sort.” 

“Yes, yes; I understand you. But there is 
nothing at all of that nature in the letter. He 
does not give the least fling at Benwick, — does 
not so much as say, ‘ I wonder at it, I have a reason 
of my own for wondering at it.’ No, you would not 
guess, from his way of writing, that he had ever 
thought of this Miss (what’s her name?) for him- 
self. He very handsomely hopes they will be 


224 


PERSUASION. 


happy together; and there is nothing very un- 
forgiving in that, I think.’’ 

Aniie did not receive the perfect conviction 
which the Admiral meant to convey, but it would 
have been useless to press the inquiry farther. 
She therefore satisfied herself with common- 
place remarks or quiet attention, and the Admiral 
had it all his own way. 

‘^Poor Frederick! ” said he at last. ^^Now he 
must begin all over again with somebody else. I 
think we must get him to Bath. Sophy must 
write, and beg him to come to Bath. Here are 
pretty girls enough, I am sure. It would be of no 
use to go to Uj)percross again; for that other Miss 
Musgrove, I find, is bespoke by her cousin, the 
young parson. Do not you think. Miss Elliot, we 
had better try to get him to Bath?” 


PERSUASION. 


225 


CHAPTER XIX. 

While Admiral Croft was taking this walk with 
Anne, and expressing his wish of getting Captain 
Wentworth to Bath, Captain Wentworth was 
already on his way thither. Before Mrs. Croft 
had written, he was arrived; and the very next 
time Anne walked out, she saw him. 

Mr. Elliot was attending his two cousins and 
Mrs. Clay. They were in Milsom Street. It 
began to rain, — not much, but enough to make 
shelter desirable for women, and quite enough to 
make it very desirable for Miss Elliot to have the 
advantage of being conveyed home in Lady Dal- 
rymple’s carriage, which was seen waiting at a lit- 
tle distance. She, Anne, and Mrs. Clay, therefore, 
turned into Molland’s, while Mr. Elliot stepped to 
Lady Dalrymple, to request her assistance^ He 
soon joined them again, successful, of course; Lady 
Dalrymple would be most happy to take them 
home, and would call for them in a few minutes. 

Her Ladyship’s carriage was a barouche, and did 
not hold more than four with any comfort. Miss 
Carteret was with her mother; consequently it was 
not reasonable to expect accommodation for all the 
three Camden Place ladies. There could be no 
doubt as to Miss Elliot. Whoever suffered incon- 
venience, she must suffer none; but it occupied a 
15 


226 


PERSUASION. 


little time to settle the point of civility between 
the other two. The rain was a mere trifle, and 
Anne was most sincere in preferring a w^alk with 
Mr. Elliot. But the rain was also a mere trifle to 
Mrs. Clay; she would hardly allow it even to drop 
at all, and her boots were so thick, much thicker 
than Miss Anne’s; and in short, her civility ren- 
dered her quite as anxious to be left to walk with 
Mr. Elliot as Anne could be; and it was discussed 
between them with a generosity so polite and so 
determined that the others were obliged to settle 
it for them, — Miss Elliot maintaining that Mrs. 
Clay had a little cold already, and Mr. Elliot de- 
ciding, on appeal, that his cousin Anne’s boots 
were rather the thickest. 

It was fixed, accordingljq that Mrs. Clay should 
be of the party in the carriage; and they had just 
reached this point, wdien Anne, as she sat near the 
w'indow, descried, most decidedly and distinctly. 
Captain Wentworth walking down the street. 

Her start w^as perceptible only to herself; but 
she instantly felt that she w^as the greatest simple- 
ton in the wmrld, the most unaccountable and 
absurd! For a few minutes she saw nothing be- 
fore her; it w^as all confusion. She was lost; and 
when she had scolded back her senses, she found 
the others still w^aiting for the carriage, and Mr. 
Elliot, always obliging, just setting off for Union 
Street on a commission of Mrs. Clay’s. 

She now felt a great inclination to go to the 
outer door; she wanted to see if it rained. Why 
was she to suspect herself of another motive? 
Captain Wentworth must be out of sight. She 


PERSUASION. 


227 


left her seat, she would go; one half of her should 
not be always so much wiser than the other half, 
or always suspecting the other of being worse than 
it was. She would see if it rained. She was sent 
back, however, in a moment, by the entrance of 
Captain Wentworth himself, among a party of 
gentlemen and ladies, evidently his acquaintance, 
and whom he must have joined a little below 
Milsom Street. He was more obviously struck 
and confused by the sight of her than she had ever 
observed before; he looked quite red. Uor the 
first time, since their renewed acquaintance, she 
felt that she was betraying the less sensibility of 
the two. She had the advantage of him in the 
preparation of the last few moments. All the over- 
powering, blinding, bewildering, first effects of 
strong surprise were over vdth her. Still, how- 
ever, she had enough to feel! It was agitation, 
pain, pleasure, — a something between delight 
and misery. 

He spoke to her, and then turned away. The 
character of his manner was embarrassment. She 
could not have called it either cold or friendly, or 
anything so certainly as embarrassed. 

After a short interval, however, he came towards 
her, and spoke again. Mutual inquiries on com- 
mon subjects passed; neither of them, probably, 
much the wiser for what they heard, and Anne 
continuing fully sensible of his being less at ease 
than formerly. They had, by dint of being so 
very much together, got to speak to each other 
with a considerable portion of apparent indiffer- 
ence and calmness; but he could not do it now. 


228 


PERSUASION. 


Time had changed him, or Louisa had changed 
him. There was consciousness of some sort or 
other. He looked very well, not as if he had been 
suffering in health or spirits; and he talked of 
Uppercross, of the Musgroves, nay, even of Louisa, 
and had even a momentary look of his own arch 
significance as he named her; hut yet it was Cap- 
tain Wentworth not comfortable, not easy, not able 
to feign that he was. 

It did not surprise, hut it grieved Anne to ob- 
serve that Elizabeth would not know him. She 
saw that he saw Elizabeth, that Elizabeth saw 
him, that there was complete internal recognition 
on each side ; she was convinced that he was ready 
to be acknowledged as an acquaintance, expecting 
it; and she had the pain of seeing her sister turn 
away with unalterable coldness. 

Lady Dalrymple’s carriage, for which ISIiss Elliot 
was growing very impatient, now drew up; the 
servant came in to announce it. It was beginning 
to rain again; and altogether there was a delay, 
and a hustle, and a talking, which must make all 
the little crowd in the shop understand that Lady 
Dalrymple was calling to convey Miss Elliot. At 
last Miss Elliot and her friend, unattended but by 
the servant (for there was no cousin returned), 
were walking off; and Captain Wentworth, watch- 
ing them, turned again to Anne, and by manner, 
rather than words, was offering his services to her. 

^‘1 am much obliged to you,” was her answer, 
^^hut I am not going with them. The carriage 
would not accommodate so many. I walk; I pre- 
fer walking.” 


PERSUASION. 


229 


But it rains.” 

‘‘Oh, very little. Nothing that I regard.” 

After a moments pause, he said, “Though I 
came only yesterday, I have equipped myself prop- 
erly for Bath already, you see,” pointing to a new 
umbrella; “ I wish you would make use of it, if 
you are determined to walk, though I think it 
would he more prudent to let me get you a chair.” 

She was very much obliged to him, hut declined 
it all, repeating her conviction that the rain 
would come to nothing at present, and adding, “I 
am only waiting for Mr. Elliot. He will be here 
in a moment, I am sure.” 

She had hardly spoken the words, when Mr. 
Elliot walked in. Captain Wentworth recollected 
him perfectly. There was no difference between 
him and the man who had stood on the steps at 
Lyme, admiring Anne as she passed, except in the 
air and look and manner of the privileged rela- 
tion and friend. He came in with eagerness, ap- 
peared to see and think only of her, apologized for 
his stay, was grieved to have kept her waiting, 
and anxious to get her away without further loss 
of time, and before the rain increased; and in 
another moment they walked off together, her arm 
under his, a gentle and embarrassed glance, and a 
“ Good morning to you,” being all that she had 
time for, as she passed away. 

As soon as they were out of sight, the ladies of 
Captain Wentworth’s party began talking of them. 

“Mr. Elliot does not dislike his cousin, I 
fancy? ” 

“Oh, no, that is clear enough. One can guess 


230 


PERSUASION. 


what will happen there. He is always with them; 
half lives in the family, I believe. What a very 
good-looking man ! 

Yes; and Miss Atkinson, who dined with him 
once at the Wallises’, saj'^s he is the most agreeable 
man she ever was in company with.” 

‘^She is pretty, I think, — Anne Elliot; very 
pretty, when one comes to look at her. It is not 
the fashion to say so, but I confess I admire her 
more than her sister.” 

Oh, so do I.” 

And so do I. No comparison. But the men 
are all wild after Miss Elliot. Anne is too deli- 
cate for them.” 

Anne would have been particularly obliged to 
her cousin if he would have walked by her side all 
the way to Camden Place without saying a w^ord. 
She had never found it so difficult to listen to him, 
though nothing could exceed his solicitude and 
care, and though his subjects w^ere principally 
such as were wont to be alwaj^s interesting, — 
2)raise, warm, just, and discriminating, of Lady 
Kussell, and insinuations highly rational against 
Mrs. Clay. But just now she could think only of 
Captain Wentworth. She could not understand 
his present feelings, whether he were really suffer- 
ing much from disappointment or not; and till 
that point were settled, she could not be quite 
herself. 

She lioj^ed to be wise and reasonable in time; 
but alas! alas! she must confess to herself that 
she was not wise yet. 

Another circumstance ver3" essential for her to 


PERSUASION. 


231 


know, was how long he meant to be in Bath; he 
had not mentioned it, or she could not recollect it. 
He might be only passing through. But it was 
more probable that he should be come to stay. In 
that case, so liable as everybody was to meet every- 
body in Bath, Lady Bussell would in all likelihood 
see him somewhere. Would she recollect him? 
How would it all be ? 

She had already been obliged to tell Lady 
Bussell that Louisa Musgrove was to marry Captain 
Benwick. It had cost her something to encounter 
Lady BusselUs surprise; and now, if she were by 
any chance to be thrown into company with Cap- 
tain Wentworth, her imperfect knowledge of the 
matter might add another shade of prejudice 
against him. 

The following morning Anne was out with her 
friend, and for the first hour in an incessant and 
fearful sort of watch for him in vain; but at last, 
in returning down Pulteney Street, she distin- 
guished him on the right-hand pavement at such a 
distance as to have him in view the greater part of 
the street. There were many other men about 
him, many groups walking the same way, but there 
was no mistaking him. She looked instinctive!}" 
at Lady Bussell ; but not from any mad idea of her 
recognizing him so soon as she did herself. Ho, it 
was not to be supposed that Lady Bussell would 
perceive him till they were nearly opposite. She 
looked at her, however, from time to time, anx- 
iously; and when the moment approached which 
must point him out, though not daring to look 
again (for her own countenance she knew was 


232 


PERSUASION. 


unfit to be seen), she was yet perfectly conscious of 
Lady Kussell’s eyes being turned exactly in the di- 
rection for him, — of her being, in short, intently 
observing him. She could thoroughly comprehend 
the sort of fascination he must possess over Lady 
EusselPs mindj the difficulty it must be for her to 
withdraw her eyes; the astonishment she must be 
feeling that eight or nine years should have passed 
over him, and in foreign climes and in active 
service too, without robbing him of one personal 
grace ! 

At last Lady Kussell drew back her head. 
‘‘Now, how would she speak of him? 

“You will wonder,’ said she, “what has been 
fixing my eye so long; but I was looking after 
some window-curtains which Lady Alicia and Mrs. 
Frankland were telling me of last night. They 
described the drawing-room window-curtains of one 
of the houses on this side of the way, and this part 
of the street, as being the handsomest and best 
hung of any in Bath, but could not recollect the 
exact number, and I have been trying to find out 
which it could be; but I confess I can see no cur- 
tains hereabouts that answer their description.” 

Anne sighed, and blushed, and smiled, in pity 
and disdain, either at her friend or herself. The 
part which provoked her most was that in all 
this waste of foresight and caution she should have 
lost the right moment for seeing whether he saw 
them. 

A day or two passed without producing any- 
thing. The theatre or the rooms where he was most 
likely to be were not fashionable enough for the 


PERSUASION. 


233 


Elliots, whose evening amusements were solely in 
the elegant stupidity of private parties, in which 
they were getting more and more engaged; and 
Anne, wearied of such a state of stagnation, sick 
of knowing nothing, and fancying herself stronger 
because her strength was not tried, was quite 
impatient for the concert evening. It was a 
concert for the benefit of a person patronized by 
Lady Dalrymple. Of course they must attend. 
It was really expected to be a good one, and Cap- 
tain Wentworth was very fond of music. If she 
could only have a few minutes’ conversation with 
him again, she fancied she should be satisfied; and 
as to the power of addressing him, she felt all 
over courage if the opportunity occurred. Eliza- 
beth had turned from him. Lady E-ussell over- 
looked him; her nerves were strengthened by 
these circumstances; she felt that she owed him 
attention. 

She had once partly promised Mrs. Smith to 
spend the evening with her; but in a short 
hurried call she excused herself and put it off, 
with the more decided promise of a longer visit 
on the morrow. Mrs. Smith gave a most good- 
humored acquiescence. 

‘‘By all means,” said she; “only tell me all 
about it, when you do come. Who is your 
party? ” 

Anne named them all. Mrs. Smith made no 
reply; but when she was leaving her, said, and 
with an expression half serious, half arch, “ Well, 
I heartily wish your concert may answer; and do 
not fail me to-morrow if you can come, for I 


234 


PERSUASION. 


begin to have a foreboding that I may not have 
many more visits from 3^00.’^ 

Anne was startled and confused; but after stand- 
ing in a moment’s suspense, was obliged, and not 
sorry to be obliged, to hurry away. 


V 


PERSUASION. 


235 


CHAPTER XX. 

Sir Walter, his two daughters, and Mrs. Clay 
were the earliest of all their party at the rooms in the 
evening; and as Lady Dalrymple must he waited 
for, they took their station by one of the fires in the 
octagon room. But hardly were they so settled, 
when the door opened again, and Captain Went- 
worth w'alked in alone. Anne was the nearest to 
him; and making yet a little advance, she instantly 
spoke. He was preparing only to bow and pass 
on; but a gentle ‘‘ How do you do? ’’ brought him 
out of the straight line to stand near her, and 
make inquiries in return, in spite of the formidable 
father and sister in the background. Their being 
in the background was a support to Anne; she 
knew nothing of their looks, and felt equal to 
everything which she believed right to be done. 

While they were speaking, a whispering between 
her father and Elizabeth caught her ear. She 
could not distinguish, but she must guess the 
subject; and on Captain Wentworth’s making a 
distant bow, she comprehended that her father had 
judged so well as to give him that simple acknow- 
ledgment of acquaintance, and she was just in time 
by a side glance to see a slight courtesy from 
-Elizabeth herself. This, though late and reluc- 
tant and ungracious, was yet better than nothing; 
and her spirits improved. 


236 


PERSUASION. 


After talking, however, of the weather and Bath 
and the concert, their conversation began to flag, 
and so little was said at last that she was expect- 
ing him to go every moment; but he did not. He 
seemed in no hurry to leave her; and presently, 
with renew^ed spirit, with a little smile, a little 
glow, he said, — 

have hardly seen you since our day at Lyme. 
I am afraid you must have suffered from the shock, 
and the more from its not overpowering you at the 
time.’’ 

She assured him that she had not. 

^^It was a frightful hour,” said he, ^^a fright- 
ful day! ” and he passed his hand across his eyes, 
as if the remembrance were still too painful ; but 
in a moment, half smiling again, added: The 

day has produced some effects, however, has had 
some consequences which must be considered as 
the very reverse of frightful. When you had the 
presence of mind to suggest that Benwick would 
be the properest person to fetch a surgeon, you 
could have little idea of his being eventually one 
of those most concerned in her recovery.” 

“Certainly I could have none. But it ap- 
pears — I should hope it would be a very happy 
match. There are on both sides good j)rinci]jles 
and good temper.” 

“Yes,” said he, looking not exactly forward; 
“ but there, I think, ends the resemblance. With 
all my soul I wish them happy, and rejoice over every 
circumstance in favor of it. They have no diffi- 
culties to contend with at home, — no opposition^ 
no caprice, no delays. The Musgroves are behaving 


PERSUASION. 


237 


like themselves, most honorably and kindly, only 
anxious with true parental hearts to promote their 
daughter’s comfort. All this is much, very much 
in favor of their happiness ; more than perhaps — ” 

He stopped. A sudden recollection seemed to 
occur, and to give him some taste of that emotion 
which was reddening Anne’s cheeks and fixing 
her eyes on the ground. After clearing his 
throat, however, he proceeded thus, — 

I confess that I do think there is a disparity, 
too great a disparity, and in a point no less essen- 
tial than mind. I regard Louisa Musgrove as a 
very amiable, sweet-tempered girl, and not defi- 
cient in understanding; hut Benwick is some- 
thing more. He is a clever man, a reading man; 
and 1 confess that I do consider his attaching himself 
to her with some surprise. Had it been the effect of 
gratitude, had he learned to love her because he 
believed her to be preferring him, it would have 
been another thing. But I have no reason to sup- 
pose it so. It seems, on the contrary, to have 
been a perfectly spontaneous, untaught feeling on 
his side ; and this surprises me. A man like him, 
in his situation! with a heart pierced, wounded, 
almost broken! Fanny Harville was a very supe- 
rior creature, and his attachment to her was in- 
deed attachment. A man does not recover from 
such a devotion of the heart to such a woman! 
He ought not, — he does not.” 

Either from the consciousness, however, that 
his friend had recovered, or from some other con- 
sciousness, he went no farther; and Anne, who, in 
spite of the agitated voice in which the latter part 


238 


PERSUASION. 


had been uttered, and in spite of all the various 
noises of the room; the almost ceaseless slam of the 
door, and ceaseless buzz of persons walking through, 
had distinguished every word, was struck, grati- 
fied, confused, and beginning to breathe very 
quick, and feel a hundred things in a moment. 
It was impossible for her to enter on such a sub- 
ject; and yet after a pause, feeling the necessity 
of speaking, and having not the smallest wish for a 
total change, she only deviated so far as to say, — 

“ You were a good while at L^^me, I think? 

About a fortnight. I could not leave it till 
Louisa’s doing well was quite ascertained. I had 
been too deeply concerned in the mischief to be 
soon at peace. It had been my doing, — solely 
mine. She would not have been obstinate if I 
had not been weak. The country round Lyme is 
very fine. I walked and rode a great deal; and 
the more I saw, the more I found to admire.” 

‘‘I should very much like to see Lyme again,” 
said Anne. 

“Indeed! I should not have supposed that you 
could have found anything in Lyme to inspire 
such a feeling. The horror and distress you were 
involved in, the stretch of mind, the wear of 
spirits! I should have thought your last impres- 
sions of Lyme must have been strong disgust.” 

“The last few hours were certainly very pain- 
ful,” replied Anne; “but when pain is over, the 
remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure. One 
does not love a place the less for having suffered 
in it, unless it has been all sufiering, nothing but 
suffering, — which was by no means the case at 


PERSUASION. 


239 


. Lyme. We were only in anxiety and distress dur- 
ing the last two hours; and previously there had 
been a great deal of enjoyment. So much nov- 
elty and beauty! I have travelled so little that 
every fresh place would be interesting to me, — 
but there is real beauty at Lyme; and, in short,’’ 
with a faint blush at some recollections, altogether 
my impressions of the place are very agreeable.” 

As she ceased, the entrance door opened again, 
and the very party appeared for whom they were 
waiting. Lady Dairy mple. Lady Dalrymple,” 
was the rejoicing sound; and with all the eager- 
ness compatible with anxious elegance. Sir Wal- 
ter and his two ladies stepped forward to meet 
her. Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret, escorted 
by Mr. Elliot and Colonel Wallis, who had hap- 
pened to arrive nearly at the same instant, ad- 
vanced into the room. The others joined them, 
and it was a group in which Anne found herself 
also necessarily included. She was divided from 
Captain Wentworth. Their interesting, almost 
too interesting conversation must be broken up 
for a time; but slight was the penance compared 
with the happiness which brought it on! She 
had learned, in the last ten minutes, more of his 
feelings towards Louisa, more of all his feelings, 
than she dared to think of, and she gave herself 
up to the demands of the party, to the needful 
civilities of the moment with exquisite though agi- 
tated sensations. She was in good humor with 
all. She had received ideas which disposed her to 
be courteous and kind to all, and to pity every 
one, as being less happy than herself. 


240 


PERSUASION. 


The delightful emotions were a little subdued, 
when, on stepping back from the group, to be 
joined again by Captain Wentworth, she saw that 
he was gone. She was just in time to see him 
turn into the concert-room. He was gone; he 
had disappeared. She felt a moment’s regret. 
But ‘Hhe^T- should meet again. He would look 
for her, he would find her out long before the 
evening were over, and at present, perhaps, it was 
as well to be asunder. She was in need of a little 
interval for recollection.” 

Upon Lady Bussell’s appearance soon after- 
wards, the whole party was collected; and all that 
remained was to marshal themselves, and proceed 
into the concert-room, and be of all the conse- 
quence in their power, draw as many eyes, excite 
as many whispers, and disturb as many people as 
they could. 

Very, very happy were both Elizabeth and 
Anne Elliot as they walked in. Elizabeth, arm- 
in-arm with Miss Carteret, and looking on the 
broad back of the dowager Viscountess Dalrymple 
before her, had nothing to wish for which did not 
seem within her reach; and Anne, — but it would 
be an insult to the nature of Anne’s felicity to 
draw any comparison between it and her sister’s; 
the origin of one all selfish vanity, of the other all 
generous attachment. 

Anne saw nothing, thought nothing of the bril- 
liancy of the room. Her happiness was from 
within. Her eyes were bright, and her cheeks 
glowed; but she knew nothing about it. She was 
thinking only of the last half hour; and as they 


PERSUASION. 


241 


passed to their seats, her mind took a hasty range 
over it. His choice of subjects, his expressions, 
and still more his manner and look, had been such 
as she could see in only one light. His opinion 
of Louisa Musgrove’s inferiority, — an opinion 
which he had seemed solicitous to give; his won- 
der at Captain Benwick; his feelings as to a first, 
strong attachment; sentences begun which he 
could not finish; his half-averted eyes and more 
than half-expressive glance, — all, all declared 
that he had a heart returning to her at least; that 
anger, resentment, avoidance, were no more; and 
that they were succeeded, not merely by friend- 
ship and regard, but by the tenderness of the 
past, — yes, some share of the tenderness of the 
past. She could not contemplate the change as 
implying less. He must love her. 

These were thoughts, with their attendant vi- 
sions, which occupied and flurried her too much 
to leave her any power of observation; and she 
passed along the room without having a glimpse 
of him, without even trying to discern him. 
When their places were determined on, and they 
were all properly arranged, she looked round to 
see if he should happen to be in the same part of 
the room, but he was not; her eye could not reach 
him; and the concert being just opening, she 
must consent for a time to be happy in an humbler 
way. 

The party was divided and disposed of on two 
contiguous benches. Anne was among those on 
the foremost, and Mr. Elliot had manoeuvred so 
well, with the assistance of his friend Colonel 
16 


242 


PERSUASION. 


Wallis, as to have a seat by her. Miss Elliot, 
surrounded by her cousins, and the principal ob- 
ject of Colonel Wallises gallantry, was quite 
contented. 

Anne’s mind was in a most favorable state for 
the entertainment of the evening; it was just 
occupation enough: she had feelings for the ten- 
der, spirits for the gay, attention for the scien- 
tific, and patience for the wearisome; and had 
never liked a concert better, at least during the 
first act. Towards the close of it, in the interval 
succeeding an Italian song, she explained the 
words of the song to Mr. Elliot. They had a 
concert bill between them. 

“This,” said she, “is nearly the sense, or 
rather the meaning, of the words, — for certainly 
the sense of an Italian love-song must not be talked 
of, — hut it is as nearly the meaning as I can 
give; for I do not pretend to understand the lan- 
guage. I am a very poor Italian scholar.” 

“Yes, yes; I see you are. I see you know 
nothing of the matter. You have onl}’- knowledge 
enough of the language to translate at sight these 
inverted, transposed, curtailed Italian lines in- 
to clear, comprehensible, elegant English. You 
need not say anything more of your ignorance. 
Here is complete proof.” 

“I will not oppose such kind politeness; but 
I should be sorry to be examined by a real 
proficient.” 

“ I have not had the pleasure of visiting in Cam- 
den Place so long,” replied he, “without knowing 
something of Miss Anne Elliot; and I do regard 


PEESUASION. 


243 


her as one who is too modest for the world in gen- 
eral to be aware of half her accomplishments, and 
too highly accomplished for modesty to be natural 
in any other woman. 

For shame! for shame! — this is too much of flat- 
tery. I forget what we are to have next/’ turning 
to the bill. 

^‘Perhaps/’ said Mr. Elliot, speaking low, 
Jiave had a longer acquaintance with your character 
than you are aware of.” 

Indeed! How so? You can have been ac- 
quainted with it only since I came to Bath, except- 
ing as you might hear me previously spoken of in 
my own family.” 

‘^1 knew you by report long before you came to 
Bath. I had heard you described by those who 
knew you intimately. I have been acquainted 
with you by character many years. Your person, 
your disposition, accomplishments, manner, — they 
were all described, they were all present to me.” 

Mr. Elliot was not disappointed in the interest 
he hoped to raise. Ho one can withstand the 
charm of such a mystery. To have been described 
long ago to a recent acquaintance by nameless 
people, is irresistible; and Anne was all curiosity. 
She wondered, and questioned him eagerly; but 
in vain. He delighted in being asked, but he 
would not tell. 

^^Ho, no, — some time or other, perhaps, but not 
now. He would mention no names now ; but such, 
he could assure her, had been the fact. He had 
many years ago received such a description of Miss 
Anne Elliot as had inspired him with the highest 


244 


PEllSUASION. 


idea of her merit, and excited the warmest curi- 
osity to know her.’’ 

Anne could think of no one so likely to have 
spoken with partiality of her many years ago as 
the Mr. Wentworth of Monkford, Captain Went- 
worth’s brother. He might have been in Mr. 
Elliot’s company, but she had not courage to ask 
the question. 

The name of Anne Elliot,” said he, has long 
had an interesting sound to me. Very long has 
it possessed a charm over my fancy; and if I dared, 
I would breathe my wishes that the name might 
never change.” 

Such she believed were his words ; hut scarcely 
had she received their sound, than her attention 
was caught by other sounds immediately behind 
her, which rendered everything else trivial. Her 
father and Lady Dalrymple were speaking. 

^^A well-looking man,” said Sir Walter, a 
very well-looking man.” 

‘^A very fihe young man, indeed!” said Lady 
Dalrymple.'^pMore^ir than one often sees in 
Bath. Irislijl dare say.” 

Ho ; I ju!^ !^now his name. A bowing acquaint- 
ance. Wentworth, — Captain Wentworth of the 
navy. His sister married my tenant in Somerset- 
shire, the Croft who rents Kellynch.” 

Before Sir Walter had reached this point, Anne’s 
eyes had caught the right direction, and distin- 
guished Captain Wentworth, standing among a 
cluster of men at a little distance. As her eyes 
fell on him, his seemed to be withdrawn from her. 
It had that appearance. It seemed as if she had 


PERSUASION. 


245 


“been one moment too late; and as long as she dared 
observe, he did not look again. But the perform- 
ance was recommencing, and she was forced to 
seem to restore her attention to the orchestra, and 
look straight forward. 

' When she could give another glance, he had 
moved away. He could not have come nearer to 
her if he would, she was so surrounded and shut 
in ; but she would rather have caught his eye. 

Mr. EllioBs speech, too, distressed her. She had 
no longer any inclination to talk to him. She 
wished him not so near her. 

The first act was over. How she hoped for 
some beneficial change; and after a period of 
nothing-saying amongst the party, some of them 
did decide on going in quest of tea. Anne was one 
of the few who did not choose to move. She re- 
mained in her seat, and so <did Lady Bussell ; but 
she had the pleasure of getting rid of Mr. Elliot; 
and she did not mean, whatever shj might feel on 
Lady- Bussell’s account, to Shrink ^oni conversa- 
tion with Captain Wentwojj^j if htf^ve her the 
opportunity. She was persUaiied Lady Bus- 
sell’s countenance that she ha^B seejr him. 

He did not come, however. Anne sometimes 
fancied she discerned him at a distance, but he 
never came. The anxious interval wore away un- 
productively. The others returned, the room filled 
again, benches were reclaimed and repossessed, 
and another hour of pleasure or of penance was to he 
sat out, another hour of music was to give . delight 
or the gapes, as real or affected taste for it pre- 
vailed. To Anne it chiefly wore the prospect of 


246 


PERSUASION. 


an hour of agitation. Slie could not quit that room 
in peace witliont seeing Captain Wentworth once 
more, without the interchange of one friendly look. 

In resettling themselves there were now many 
changes, the result of which was favorable for her. 
Colonel Wallis declined sitting down again, and 
Mr. Elliot was invited by Elizabeth and Miss 
Carteret, in a manner not to he refused, to sit be- 
tween them ; and by some other removals, and a 
little scheming of her own, Anne was enabled to 
j)lace herself much nearer the end of the bench than 
she had been before, much more within the reach 
of a passer-by. She could not do so, without com- 
paring herself with Miss Larolles, the inimitable 
Miss Larolles; but still she did it, and not with 
much happier effect; though by what seemed pros- 
perity in the shape of an early abdication in her 
next neighbors, she found herself at the very end 
of the bench before the concert closed. 

Such was her situation, with a vacant space at 
hand, when Captain Wentworth was again in sight. 
She saw him not far off. He saw her too; yet he 
looked grave, and seemed irresolute, and only by 
very slow degrees came at last near enough to 
speak to her. She felt that something must be the 
matter. The change was indubitable. The differ- 
ence between his present air and what it had been 
in the octagon room was strikingl}'- great. Why 
was it? She thought of her father, of Lady Eus- 
sell. Could there have been any unpleasant 
glances? He began by speaking of the concert 
gravely, more like the Captain Wentworth of Upper- 
cross; owned himself disappointed, had expected 


PEESUASIOX. 


247 


better singing; and, in short, must confess that 
he should not he sorry when it was over. Anne 
replied, and spoke in defence of the performance so 
well, and yet in allowance for his feelings so pleas- 
antly, that his countenance improved, and he re- 
plied again with almost a smile. They talked for 
a few minutes more; the improvement held; he 
even looked down towards the bench, as if he saw 
a place on it well w'orth occupying; when, at that 
moment, a touch on her shoulder obliged Anne to 
turn round. It came from Mr. Elliot. He begged 
her pardon, but she must be applied to, to explain 
Italian again. Miss Carteret was very anxious to 
have a general idea of what was next to be sung. 
Anne could not refuse; but never had she sacrificed 
to politeness with a more suffering spirit. 

A few minutes, though as few as possible, were 
inevitably consumed; and when her own mistress 
attain, when able to turn and look as she had done 
before, she found herself accosted by Captain 
Wentworth, in a reserved yet hurried sort of fare- 
well. ^^He inust wish her good-night; he was 
going; he should get home as fast as he could.” 

“Is not this song worth staying for?” said 
Anne, suddenly struck by an idea which made her 
yet more anxious to be encouraging. 

“No!” he replied impressively, “there is 
nothing worth my staying for; ” and he was gone 
directly. 

Jealousy of Mr. Elliot! It was the only intel- 
ligible motive. Captain Wentworth jealous of her 
affection! Could she have believed it a w'eek 
ago, — three hours ago ! For a moment the grati- 


248 


PERSUASION. 


fication was exquisite. But, alas ! there were very- 
different thoughts to succeed. How was such jeal- 
ousy to be quieted? How was the truth to reach 
him? How, in all the peculiar disadvantages of 
their respective situations, would he ever learn her 
real sentiments? It was misery to think of Mr. 
Elliot’s attentions; their evil was incalculable. 


PERSUASION. 


249 


CHAPTER XXI. 

Anne recollected with pleasure the next morning 
her promise of going to Mrs. Smith, meaning that 
it should engage her from home at the time when 
Mr. Elliot would he most likely to call; for to 
avoid Mr. Elliot was almost a first object. 

She felt a great deal of good-will towards him. 
In spite of the mischief of his attentions, she owed 
him gratitude and regard, perhaps compassion. 
She could not help thinking much of the extraordi- 
nary circumstances attending their acquaintance; 
of the right which he seemed to have to interest 
her, by everything in situation, by his own senti- 
ments, by his early prepossession. It was altogether 
very extraordinary; flattering, hut painful. There 
was much to regret. How she might have felt, 
had there been no Captain Wentworth in the case, 
w^as not worth iiiquiry; for there was a Captain 
Wentworth; and be the conclusion of the present 
suspense good or bad, her affection would be his 
forever. Their union, she believed, could not 
divide her more from other men than their final 
separation. 

Prettier musings of high-wrought love and 
eternal constancy could never have passed along 
the streets of Bath than Anne was sporting with 
from Camden Place to Westgate Buildings. It 


250 


PERSUASION. 


was almost enongli to spread purification and 
perfume all the way. 

She was sure of a pleasant reception; and her 
friend seemed this morning particularly obliged to 
her for coming, seemed hardly to have exjoected 
her, though it had been an appointment. 

An account of the concert was immediately 
claimed; and Anne’s recollections of the concert 
were quite happy enough to animate her features, 
and make her rejoice to talk of it. All that she 
could tell, she told most gladly; hut the all was 
little for one who had been there, and unsatisfac- 
tory for such an inquirer as Mrs. Smith, who had 
already heard, through the short cut of a laundress 
and a waiter, rather more of the general success 
and produce of the evening than Anne could relate, 
and w^ho now asked in vain for several particulars 
of the company. Everybody of any consequence 
or notoriety in Bath was well known by name to 
Mrs. Smith. 

‘‘The little Durands were there, I conclude,” 
said she, “with their mouths open to catch the 
music; like unfledged sparrows ready to be fed. 
They never miss a concert.” 

“Yes. I did not see them myself, but I heard 
Mr. Elliot say they were in the room.” 

“The Ihbotsons, — were they there? and the 
two new beauties, with the tall Irish officer, who 
is talked of for one of them.” 

“ I do not know. I do not think they were.” 

“Old Lady Mary Maclean? I need net ask 
after her. She never misses, I know; and you 
must have seen her. She must have been in your 


PERSUASION. 


251 


own circle; for as you went with Lady Dalrymple, 
you were in tlie seats of grandeur, round the 
orchestra, of course.’’ 

‘‘No; that was what I dreaded. It would have 
been very unpleasant to me in every respect. But 
happily Lady Dalrymple always chooses to be 
farther off, and we were exceedingly well placed, 
that is, for hearing; I must not say for seeing, 
because I apj)ear to have seen very little.” 

“ Oh, 3mu saw enough for your own amusement. 
I can understand. There is a sort of domestic 
enjo^mient to be known even in a crowd, and this 
you had. You were a large party in yourselves, 
and you wanted nothing beyond.” 

“ But I ought to have looked about me more,” 
said Anne, conscious, while she spoke, that there 
had in fact been no want of looking about; that 
the object only had been deficient. 

“No, no; you were better emploj^ed. You need 
not tell me that 3^011 had a pleasant evening. I see 
it in your eye. I perfectly see how the hours 
passed; that 3mu had always something agreeable 
to listen to. In the intervals of the concert, it 
was conversation.” 

Anne half smiled, and said, “Do 3’ou see that 
in my eye? ” 

“ Yes, I do. Your countenance perfectly in- 
forms me that you were in company last night 
with the person whom you think the most agree- 
able in the world, the person who interests 3^11 at 
this present time more than all the rest of the 
world put together.” 

A blush overspread Anne’s cheeks. She could 
say nothing. 


252 


PERSUASION. 


‘^And such being the case,’^ continued Mrs. 
Smith, after a short pause, ‘‘I hope you believe 
that I do know how to value your kindness in 
coming to me this morning. It is really very 
good of you to come and sit with me, when you 
must have so many pleasanter demands upon your 
time.’’ 

Anne heard nothing of this. She was still in 
the astonishment and confusion excited by her 
friend’s penetration, unable to imagine how any 
report of Captain Wentworth could have reached 
her. After another short silence, — 

Pray,” said Mrs. Smith, is Mr. Elliot aware 
of your acquaintance with me? Does he know 
that I am in Bath?” 

‘^Mr. Elliot!” repeated Anne, looking up 
surprised. A moment’s reflection showed her the 
mistake she had been under. She caught it in- 
stantaneously; and, recovering courage with the 
feeling of safety, soon added, more composedly. 

Are you acquainted with Mr. Elliot? ” 

I have been a good deal acquainted with him, 
replied Mrs. Smith, gravely, ^‘but it seems worn 
out now. It is a great while since we met.” 

I was not at all aware of this. You never 
mentioned it before. Had I known it, I would 
have had the pleasure of talking to him about 
you.” 

To confess the truth,” said Mrs. Smith, assum- 
ing her usual air of cheerfulness, that is exactly 
the pleasure I want you to have. I want you to 
talk about me to Mr. Elliot. I want your interest 
with him. He can be of essential service to me; 


PERSUASION. 


253 


and if you would have the goodness, my dear Miss 
Elliot, to make it an object to yourself, of course it 
is done.’’ 

should he extremely happy, — T hope 3^011 
cannot doubt my willingness to he of even the 
slightest use to you,” replied Anne; ‘‘hut I sus- 
pect that you are considering me as having a 
liigher claim on Mr. Elliot, a greater right to 
influence him, than is reall3" the case. I am sure 
3'^ou have, somehow or other, imbibed such a notion. 
You must consider me onl}'^ as Mr. Elliot’s relation. 
If in that light, if there is anything which you sup- 
pose his cousin might fairly ask of him, I beg you 
would not hesitate to employ me.” 

Mrs. Smith gave her a penetrating glance, and 
then, smiling, said, — 

“ I have been a little premature, I perceive. 
I beg your pardon. I ought to have waited for 
official information. But now, my dear Miss 
Elliot, as an old friend, do give me a hint as to 
when I may speak. Next week ? To be sure by 
next week I may he allowed to think it all settled, 
and build my own selfish schemes on Mr. Elliot’s 
good fortune.” 

“No,’* replied Anne, “ nor next week, nor next, 
nor next. I assure you that nothing of the sort 
3^ou are thinking of will he settled any week. I 
am not going to marry Mr. Elliot. I should like 
to know why 3mu imagine I am.” 

Mrs. Smith looked' at her again, looked ear- 
nestly, smiled, shook her head, and exclaimed, — 

“Now, howl do wish I understood you! How 
I do wish I knew what you were at! I have a 


254 


PERSUASION. 


great idea that you do not design to he cruel, when 
the right moment comes. Till it does come, you 
know, we women never mean to have an3^hody. 
Tt is a thing of course among us, that every man 
is refused — till he offers. But why should ^mu 
he cruel? Let me plead for my — present friend I 
cannot call him, hut for my former friend. Where 
can jmu look for a more suitable match? W^here 
could you expect a more gentlemanlike, agreeable 
man? Let me recommend ]\Ir. Elliot. I am sure 
you hear nothing but good of him from Colonel 
Wallis; and who can know him better than 
Colonel Wallis? 

“ My dear Mrs. Smith, Mr. Elliot’s wife has 
not been dead much above half a year. He ought 
not to be supposed to be paj'ing his addresses to 
any one.” 

^‘Oh, if these are your only objections,” cried 
Mrs. Smith, archly, ‘‘ Mr. Elliot is safe, and I 
shall give myself no more trouble about him. Do 
not forget me when 3’ou are married, that ’s all. 
Let him know me to be a friend of yours, and then 
he will think little of the trouble required, which 
it is very natural for him now, with so many 
affairs and engagements of his own, to avoid and 
get rid cf as he can, — very natural, perhaps. 
jNinet^^-nine out of a hundred would do the same. 
Of course, he cannot be aware of the importance to 
me. Yl cll, my dear Miss Elliot, I hope and trust 
3^ou will be very happy. Mr. Elliot has sense to 
understand the value of such a woman. Your 
peace will not be shipwrecked as mine has been. 
You are safe in all worldly matters, and safe in his 


PERSUASION. 255 

character. He will not he led astray, — he will 
not he misled hy others to his riiin.^’ 

said Anne; ‘^1 can readily believe all 
that of my cousin. He seems to have a calm, 
decided temper, not at all open to dangerous 
impressions. I consider him with great respect. 
I have no reason, from an 3 'thiiig that has fallen 
within my observation, to do otlierwise. But I 
have not known him long; and he is not a man, 
1 think, to be known intimately'' soon. Will not 
this manner of speaking of him, Mrs. Smith, 
convince ymu that he is nothing to me? Surely 
this must be calm enough. And upon my word, 
he is nothing to me. Should he ever propose to 
me (which I have very little reason to imagine 
he has any thought of doing), I shall not accept 
him. I assure you, I shall not. I assure you, 
Mr. Elliot had not the share which you have been 
supposing in whatever pleasure the concert of last 
night might afford; not Mr. Elliot — it is not 
Mr. Elliot that — ” 

She stopped, regretting, wdth a deep blush, that 
she had implied so much; but less would hardly 
have been sufficient. Mrs. Smith would hardly 
have believed so soon in Mr. Elliot’s failure, but 
from the perception of there being a somebody else. 
As it was, she instantly submitted, and wdtli all 
the semblance of seeing nothing beyond; and 
Anne, eager to escape farther notice, was impatient 
to know why Mrs. .Smith should have fancied she 
was to marry^ Mr. Elliot, where she could have re- 
ceived the idea, or from whom she could have 
heard it. 


256 


PEKSUASION. 


“Do tell me how it first came into your head. 

“It first came into my head/’ replied Mrs. 
Smith, “upon finding how much you were to- 
gether, and feeling it to be the most probable 
thing in the world to be wished for by everybody 
belonging to either of you; and you may depend 
upon it that all your acquaintance have disposed 
of you in the same way. But I never heard it 
spoken of till two days ago.” 

“And has it, indeed, been spoken of ? ” 

“Did you observe the woman who opened the 
door to you, when you called yesterday? ” 

“No. Was not it Mrs. Speed, as usual, or the 
maid? I observed no one in particular.” 

‘‘ It was my friend Mrs. Hooke, Nurse Hooke, — 
who, by the by, had a great curiosity to see you, 
and was delighted to be in the way to let you in. 
She came away from Marlborough Buildings only 
on Sunday; and she it was who told me you were 
to marry Mr. Elliot. She had it from Mrs. Wallis 
herself, which did not seem bad authority. She 
sat an hour with me on Monday evening, and gave 
me the whole history.” 

“The whole history! ” repeated Anne, laughing. 
“She could not make a very long history, I think, 
of one such little article of unfounded news.” 

Mrs. Smith said nothing. 

“But,” continued Anne, presently, “though 
there is no truth in my having this claim on Mr. 
Elliot, I should be extremely happy to be of use 
to you, in any way that I could. Shall I mention 
to him your being in Bath? Shall I take any 
message?” 


PERSUASION. 


257 


‘*No, I thank you; no, certainly not. In the 
warmth of the moment, and under a mistaken im- 
pression, I might, perhaps, have endeavored ta 
interest you in some circumstances; but not now. 
No, I thank you, I have nothing to trouble you 
with.’’ 

think you spoke of having known Mr. Elliot 
many years?” 
did.” 

‘^Not before he married, I suppose?” 

^^Yes; he was not married when I knew him 
first.” 

^^And — were you much acquainted?” 

Intimately.” 

‘^Indeed! Then do tell me what he was at that 
time of life. I have a great curiosity to know 
what Mr. Elliot was as a very young man. Was 
he at all such as he appears now?” 

^‘I have not seen Mr. Elliot these three years,” 
w^as Mrs. Smith’s answer, given so gravely that it 
was impossible to pursue the subject farther; and 
Anne felt that she had gained nothing hut an in- 
crease of curiosity. They were both silent, — Mrs. 
Smith very thoughtful. At last, — 

^^I beg your pardon, my dear Miss Elliot,” she 
cried, in her natural tone of cordiality, — ^^I beg 
your pardon for the short answers I have been 
giving you, but I have been uncertain what I 
ought to do. I have been doubting and consid- 
ering as to what I ought to tell you. There were 
many things to be taken into the account. One 
hates to be officious, to be giving bad impressions, 
making mischief. Even the smooth surface of 
17 


258 


PERSUASION. 


family union seems worth preserving, though there 
may be nothing durable beneath. However, I 
have determined, — I think I am right, — I think 
you ought to be made acquainted with Mr. Elliot’s 
real character. Though I fully believe that at 
present you have not the smallest intention of 
accepting him, there is no saying what may hap- 
pen. You might, some time or other, he differ- 
ently affected towards him. Hear the truth, 
therefore, now while you are unprejudiced. Mr. 
Elliot is a man without heart or conscience; a 
designing, wary, cold-blooded being, who thinks 
only of himself; who for his own interest or ease 
would be guilty of any cruelty or any treachery 
that could be perpetrated without risk of his gen- 
eral character. He has no feeling for others. 
Those whom he has been the chief cause of leading 
into ruin, he can neglect and desert without the 
smallest compunction. He is totally beyond the 
reach of any sentiment of justice or compassion. 
Oh, he is black at heart, — hollow and black ! ” 

Anne’s astonished air and exclamation of won- 
der made her pause, and in a calmer manner she 
added, — 

‘^My expressions startle you. You must allow 
for an injured, angry woman. But I will try to 
command myself. I will not abuse him. I will 
only tell you what I have found him. Facts shall 
speak. He was the intimate friend of my dear 
husband, who trusted and loved him, and thought 
him as good as himself. The intimacy had been 
formed before our marriage. I found them most 
intimate friends; and I too became excessively 


PERSUASION. 


259 


pleased with Mr. Elliot, and entertained the high- 
est opinion of him. At nineteen, you know, one 
does not think very seriously; hut Mr. Elliot ap- 
peared to me quite as good as others, and much 
more agreeable than most others, and we were 
almost always together. We were principally in 
town, living in very good style. He was then the 
inferior in circumstances, — he was then the poor 
one; he had chambers in the Temple, and it was 
as much as he could do to support the appearance 
of a gentleman. He had always a home with us 
whenever he chose it; he was always welcome; he 
w^as like a brother. My poor Charles, who had the 
finest, most generous spirit in the world, would 
have divided his last farthing with him; and I 
know that his purse was open to him, — I know 
that he often assisted him.’’ 

^‘This must have been about that very period of 
Mr. Elliot’s life,” said Anne, which has alwaj^s 
excited my particular curiosity. It must have 
been about the same time that he became known to 
my father and sister. I never knew him myself, 
I only heard of him; but there was a somethimg 
in his conduct then, with regard to mj'' father and 
sister, and afterwards in the circumstances of his 
marriage, which I never could quite reconcile with 
present times. It seemed to announce a different 
sort of man.” 

‘^I know it all, I know it all,” cried Mrs. 
Smith. ^^He had been introduced to Sir Walter 
and your sister before I was acquainted with Iiim, 
but I heard him speak of them forever. I know 
he was invited and encouraged, and I know he did 


260 


PERSUASION. 


not choose to go. I can satisfy you, perhaps, on 
points which you would little expect; and as to 
his marriage, I knew all about it at the time. I 
was privy to all the fors and againsts, I was the 
friend to whom he confided his hopes and plans; 
and though I did not know his wife previously 
(her inferior situation in society, indeed, rendered 
that impossible), yet I knew her all her life after- 
wards, or at least till within the last two years of 
her life, and can answer any question you wish to 
put.’’ 

‘‘Nay,” said Anne, “I have no particular in- 
quiry to make about her. I have always under- 
stood they were not a happy couple. But I should 
like to know why, at that time of his life, he 
should slight my father’s acquaintance as he did. 
My father was certainly disposed to take very kind 
and proper notice of him. Why did Mr. Elliot 
draw back? ” 

“Mr. Elliot,” replied Mrs. Smith, “at that 
period of his life had one object in view, — to make 
his fortune, and by a rather quicker process than 
the law. He was determined to make it by mar- 
riage. He was determined, at least, not to mar it 
by an imprudent marriage; and I know it was his 
belief (whether justly or not, of course I cannot 
decide) that your father and sister, in their civili- 
ties and invitations, were designing a match be- 
tween the heir and the young lady; and it was 
impossible that such a match should have answered 
his ideas of wealth and independence. That was 
his motive for drawing back, I can assure you. 
He told me the whole story. He had no conceal- 


PERSUASION. 


261 


meiits witli me. It was curious, that having just 
left you behind me in Bath, my first and principal 
acquaintance on marrying should he your cousin; 
and that, through him, I should be continually 
hearing of your father and sister. He described 
one Miss Elliot, and I thought very affectionately 
of the other. 

^‘Perhaps,” cried Anne, struck by a sudden idea, 
^^you sometimes spoke of me to Mr. Elliot?” 

^‘To be sure I did, very often. I used to boast 
of my own Anne Elliot, and vouch for your being 
a very different creature from — ” 

She checked herself just in time. 

^‘This accounts for something which Mr. Elliot 
said last night,” cried Anne. ‘‘This explains it. 
I found he had been used to hear of me. I could 
not comprehend how. What wild imaginations 
one forms, where dear self is concerned! How 
sure to be mistaken! But I beg your pardon; I 
have interrupted you. Mr. Elliot married, then, 
completely for money? The circumstance, prob- 
ably, which first opened your eyes to his 
character.” 

Mrs. Smith hesitated a little here. “Oh, those 
things are too common. When one lives in the 
world, a man or woman’s marrying for money is 
too common to strike one as it ought. I was very 
young, and associated only with the young; and 
we were a thoughtless, gay set, without any strict 
rules of conduct. We lived for enjoyment. I 
think differently now; time and sickness and 
sorrow have given me other notions; but at that 
period I must own I saw nothing reprehensible 


262 


PERSUASION. 


in wLat Mr. Elliot was doing. ^ To do the best 
for himself ’ passed as a diity.’^ 

But was not she a very low woman? 

^^Yes; which I objected to, but he would not 
regard. Money, money, was all that he wanted. 
Her father was a grazier, her grandfather had 
been a butcher; but that was all nothing. She 
was a fine woman, had had a decent education, 
was brought forward by some cousins, thrown by 
chance into Mr. Elliot’s company, and fell in love 
with him; and not a difficulty or a scruple was 
there on his side, with respect to her birth. All 
his caution was spent in being secured of the real 
amount of her fortune, before he committed him- 
self. Depend upon it, whatever esteem Mr. Elliot 
may have for his own situation in life now, as a 
young man he had not the smallest value for it. 
Ilis chance of the Kellynch estate was something, 
but all the honor of the family he held as cheap 
as dirt. I have often heard him declare that if 
baronetcies were salable, anybodj’’ should have 
his for fifty pounds, arms and motto, name and 
livery included; but I will not pretend to repeat 
lialf that I used to hear him sa^’ on that subject. 
It would not be fair. And yet you ought to have 
proof; for what is all this but assertion? and you 
shall have proof.” 

^Mndeed, my dear Mrs. Smith, I want none,” 
cried Anne. ^^You have asserted nothing con- 
tradictory to what Mr. Elliot appeared to be some 
years ago. This is all in confirmation, rather, of 
what we used to hear and believe. I am more curi- 
ous to know why he should be so different now.” 


PERSUASION. 


263 


‘‘But for my satisfaction; if you will have the 
goodness to ring for Mary — sta}^, I am sure you 
will have the still greater goodness of going your- 
self into my bedroom, and bringing me the small 
inlaid box which you will find on the upper shelf 
of the closet.’^ 

Anne, seeing her friend to be earnestly bent on 
it, did as she was desired. The box was brought 
and placed before her, and Mrs. Smith, sigliing 
over it as she unlocked it, said, — 

“ This is full of papers belonging to him, to my 
husband, a small portion only of what I had to 
look over when I lost liim. The letter I am look- 
ing for was one written by Mr. Elliot to him be- 
fore our marriage, and happened to be saved; 
why, one can liardly imagine. But he was care- 
less and immetliodical, like other men, about 
those things; and when I came to examine his 
papers, I found it with others still more trivial 
from different people scattered here and there, 
while many letters and memorandums of real im- 
portance had been destroj’^ed. Here it is. I 
would not burn it, because being even then very 
little satisfied with Mr. Elliot, I was determined 
to preserve every document of former intimacy. 

I have now another motive for being glad that I 
can produce it.” 

This was the letter, directed to “Charles Smith, 
Esq., Tunbridge AYells,” and dated from London, 
as far back as Juljq 1803. 

Dear Smith, — I have received yours. Your kind- 
ness almost overpowers me. I wish nature had made 
such hearts as yours more common; but I have lived 


264 


PERSUASION. 


three-and- twenty years in the world, and have seen none 
like it. At present, believe me, I have no need of your 
services, being in cash again. Give me joy: I have 
got rid of Sir Walter and Miss. They are gone back to 
Kellynch, and almost made me swear to visit them this 
summer ; but my first visit to Kellynch will be with a 
surveyor, to tell me how to bring it with best advantage 
to the hammer. The baronet, nevertheless, is not un- 
likely to marry again ; he is quite fool enough. If he 
docs, however, they will leave me in peace, which may 
be a decent equivalent for the reversion. He is worse 
than last year. 

I wish I had any name but Elliot. I am sick of it. 
The name of Walter I can drop, thank God ! and I de- 
sire you will never insult me with my second W. again, 
meaning, for the rest of my life, to be only yours truly, 

Wm. Elliot. 

Such a letter could not be read without putting 
Anne in a glow; and Mrs. Smith, observing the 
high color in her face, said, — 

‘^The language, I know, is highly disrespect- 
ful. Though I have forgot the exact terms, I 
have a perfect impression of the general meaning. 
But it shows you the man. Mark his profes- 
sions to my poor husband. Can anything be 
stronger? ’’ 

Anne could not immediately get over the shock 
and mortification of finding such words applied to 
her father. She was obliged to recollect that her 
seeing the letter was a violation of the laws of 
honor, that no one ought to be judged or to be 
known by such testimonies, that no private cor- 
respondence could bear the eye of others, before 


PERSUASION. 


265 


she could recover calmness enough to return the 
letter which she had been meditating over, and 
say, — 

Thank you. This is full proof undoubtedly, — 
proof of everything you were saying. But why he 
acquainted with us now? 

can explain this, too,’’ cried Mrs. Smith, 
smiling. 

Can you really? ” 

Yes. I have shown you Mr. Elliot as he was 
a dozen years ago, and I will show him as he is 
now. I cannot produce written proof again, hut 1 
can give as authentic oral testimony as you can 
desire, of what he is now wanting, and what he is 
now doing. He is no hypocrite now. He truly 
wants to marry you. His present attentions to 
your family are very sincere, quite from the heart. 
I will give you my authority, — his friend Colonel 
Wallis.” 

Colonel Wallis! are you acquainted with 
him?” 

“Ho. It does not come to me in quite so di- 
rect a line as that; it takes a bend or two, hut 
nothing of consequence. The stream is as good 
as at first; the little rubbish it collects in tlie 
turnings is easily moved away. Mr. Elliot talks 
unreservedly to Colonel Wallis of his views on 
you, which said Colonel Wallis, I imagine, to he 
in himself a sensible, careful, discerning sort of 
character; but Colonel Wallis has a very pretty silly 
wife, to whom he tells things which he had better 
not; and he repeats it all to her. She, in the 
overflowing spirits of her recovery, repeats it all 


266 


PERSUASION. 


to her nurse; and the nurse, knowing mj ac- 
quaintance with you, very naturally brings it all 
to me. On Monday evening my good friend Mrs. 
Kooke let me thus much into the secrets of Marl- 
borough Buildings. When I talked of a whole 
history, therefore, you see I was not romancing so 
much as you supposed.’’ 

‘‘My dear Mrs. Smith, your authority is de- 
ficient. This will not do. Mr. Elliot’s having 
any views on me will not in the least account for 
the efforts he made towards a reconciliation with 
my father. That was all prior to my coming to 
Bath. I found them on the most friendly terms 
when I arrived.” 

“I know you did, — I know.it all perfectly; 
but — ” 

“Indeed, IMrs. Smith, we must not expect to 
get real information in such a line. Eacts or 
opinions which are to pass through the hands of 
so many, to be misconceived by folly in one, and 
ignorance in another, can hardly have much 
truth left.” 

“ Only give me a hearing. You will soon be 
able to judge of the general credit due, by listen- 
ing to some particulars which you can yourself im- 
mediately contradict or confirm. Nobody sup- 
poses that you were his first inducement. He had 
seen you, indeed, before he came to Bath, and 
admired you, but without knowing it to be you. 
So says my historian, at least. Is this true? 
Did he see you last summer or autumn ‘some- 
where down in the west,’ to use her own "words, 
without knowing it to be you?” 


PERSUASION. 


267 


“ He certainly did. So far it is veTj true. At 
L^^me, — I happened to be at Lyme.’’ 

“Well,” continued Mrs. Smith, triumphantl}^, 
“ grant my friend the credit due to the establish- 
ment of the first point asserted. He saw you then 
at Lyme, and liked you so well as to be exceed- 
ingly pleased to meet with you again in Camden 
Place, as Miss Anne Elliot, and from that moment, 
I have no doubt, had a double motive in his visits 
there. But there was another, and an earlier, 
which I will now explain. If there is anything in 
my story which you know to be either false or im- 
probable, stop me. My account states that your 
sister’s friend, the lady now staying with you, 
whom I have heard you mention, came to Bath 
with Miss Elliot and Sir Walter as long ago as 
September (in short, when they first came them- 
selves), and has been staying there ever since; 
that she is a clever, insinuating, handsome woman, 
poor and plausible, and altogether such, in situa- 
tion and manner, as to give a general idea, among 
Sir Walter’s acquaintance, of her meaning to be 
Lady Elliot, and as general a surprise that Miss 
Elliot should be apparently blind to the danger.” 

Here Mrs. Smith paused a moment; but Anne 
had not a word to say, and she continued, — 

“This was the light in which it appeared to 
those who knew the family, long before your re- 
turn to it; and Colonel Wallis had his eye upon 
your father enough to be sensible of it, though lie 
did not then visit in Camden Place; but his regard 
for Mr. Elliot gave him an interest in watching 
all that was going on there, and when Mr. Elliot 


268 


PERSUASION. 


came to Bath for a day or two, as he happened to 
do a. little before Christmas, Colonel Wallis made 
him acquainted with the appearance of things, and 
the reports heginning to prevail. Now you are. to 
understand that time had worked a very material 
change in Mr. Elliot’s opinions as to the value of 
a baronetcy. Upon all points of blood and con- 
nection he is a completely altered man. Having 
long had as much money as he could spend, noth- 
ing to wish for on the side of avarice or indulgence, 
he has been gradually learning to pin his hap- 
piness upon the consequence he is heir to. I 
thought it coming on before our acquaintance 
ceased, but it is now a confirmed feeling. He can- 
not bear the idea of not being Sir William. You 
may guess, therefore, that the news he heard from 
his friend could not he very agreeable, and you may 
guess what it produced, — the resolution of coming 
hack to Bath as soon as possible, and of fixing him- 
self here for a time, with the view of renewing his 
former acquaintance and recovering such a foot- 
ing ill the family as might give him the means of 
ajcertaining the degree of his danger, and of cir- 
cumventing the lady if he found it material. This 
was agreed upon between the two friends as the 
only thing to be done; and Colonel Wallis was to 
assist ill every way that he could. He was to he 
introduced, and Mrs. Wallis was to be introduced, 
and everybody was to he introduced. Mr. Elliot 
came hack accordingly; and on application was 
forgiven, as you know, and re-admitted into the 
family; and there it was his constant object, and 
his only object (till your arrival added another 


PERSUASION. 


269 


motive), to watch Sir Walter and Mrs. Clay. He 
omitted no opportunity of being with them, threw 
himself in their way, called at all hours, — hut I 
need not be particular on this subject. You can 
imagine what an artful man would do; and with 
this guide, perhaps, may recollect what you have 
seen him do.’’ 

‘‘ Yes,” said Anne, ‘^jmu tell me nothing which 
does not accord with what I have known or could 
imagine. There is always something offensive in 
the details of cunning. The manoeuvres of self- 
ishness and duplicity must ever be revolting, but 
I have heard nothing which really surprises me. 
I know those who would be shocked by such a rep- 
resentation of Mr. Elliot, who would have difficulty 
in believing it; but I have never been satisfied. 
I have always wanted some other motive for his 
conduct than appeared. I should like to know his 
present opinion as to the probability of the event 
he has been in dread of, — whether he considers the 
danger to be lessening or not.” 

^‘Lessening, I understand,” replied Mrs. Smith. 

He thinks Mrs. Clay afraid of him, aware that 
he sees through her, and not daring to proceed as 
she might do in his absence. But since he must 
be absent some time or other, I do not perceive how 
he can ever be secure while she holds her present 
influence. Mrs. Wallis has an amusing idea, as 
nurse tells me, that it is to be put into the mar- 
riage articles, when you and Mr. Elliot marry, that 
your father is not to marrj^ Mrs. Cla3^ A scheme 
worthy of Mrs. Wallis’s understanding, by all ac- 
counts; but my sensible Hurse Booke sees the 


270 


PERSUASION. 


absurdity of it. “Why, to be sure, ma’am,” said 
she, “it would not prevent his marrying anybody 
else.” And, indeed, to own the truth, I do not 
think nurse in her heart is a very strenuous op- 
poser of Sir Walter’s making a second match. 
She must be allowed to be a favorer of matri- 
mony, you know; and (since self will intrude) 
who can say that she may not have some flying 
visions of attending the next Lady Elliot, through 
Mrs. Wallis’s recommendation?” 

“ I am very glad to know all this,” said Anne, 
after a little thoughtfulness. “It will be more 
painful to me in some respects to be in company 
with him, but I shall know better what to do. My 
line of conduct will be more direct. Mr. Elliot is 
evidently a disingenuous, artificial, worldlj^ man, 
who has never had any better principle to guide 
him than selfishness.” 

But Mr. Elliot was not yet done with. Mrs. 
Smith had been carried away from her first direc- 
tion, and Anne had forgotten, in the interest of 
her own family concerns, how much had been origi- 
nally implied against him; but her attention was 
now called to the explanation of those first hints, 
and she listened to a recital which, if it did not 
perfectly justify the unqualified bitterness of Mrs. 
Smith, proved him to have been very unfeeling in 
his conduct towards her, very deficient both in jus- 
tice and compassion. 

She learned that (the intimacy between them 
continuing unimpaired by Mr. Elliot’s marriage) 
they had been as before always together, and Mr. 
Elliot had led his friend into expenses much be- 


PERSUASION. 


271 


yond his fortune. Mrs. Smith did not want to 
take blame to herself, and was most tender of 
throwing any on her hushand; hut Anne could 
collect that their income had never been equal to 
their style of living, and that from the first there 
had been a great deal of general and joint extrava- 
gance. From his wife’s account of him she could 
discern Mr. Smith to have been a man of warm 
feelings, easy temper, careless habits, and not 
strong understanding, much more amiable than 
his friend, and verj^ unlike him, — led by him, and 
probably despised by him. Mr. Elliot, raised bj’- 
his marriage to great afiluence, and disposed to 
every gratification of pleasure and vanity which 
could be commanded without involving himself (for 
with all his self-indulgence he had become a pru- 
dent man), and beginning to be rich, just as his 
friend ought to have found himself to be poor, 
seemed to have had no concern at all for that 
friend’s probable finances, but, on the contrary, 
had been prompting and encouraging expenses 
which could end onl}'- in ruin; and the Smiths 
accordingly had been ruined. 

The husband had died just in time to be spared 
the full knowledge of it. They had previously 
known embarrassments enough to try the friendship 
of their friends, and to prove that Mr. Elliot’s had 
better not be tried; but it was not till his death that 
the wretched state of his affairs was fully known. 
With a confidence in Mr. Elliot’s regard more 
creditable to his feelings than his judgment, Mr. 
Smith had appointed him the executor of his will; 
but Mr. Elliot would not act, and the difficulties 


272 


PERSUASION. 


and distresses which this refusal had heaped on 
her, in addition to the inevitable sufferings of her 
situation, had been such as could not be related 
without anguish of spirit, or listened to without 
corresponding indignation. 

Anne was shown some letters of his on the occa- 
sion, answers to urgent applications from Mrs. 
Smith, which' all breathed the same stern resolu- 
tion of not engaging in a fruitless trouble, and, 
under a cold civility, the same hard-hearted indif- 
ference to any of the evils it might bring on her. 
It was a dreadful picture of ingratitude and inhu- 
manity; and Anne felt, at some moments, that no 
flagrant open crime could have been worse. She 
had a great deal to listen to; all the particulars of 
past sad scenes, all the minutiae of distress upon 
distress, which in former conversations had been 
merely hinted at, were dwelt on now with a nat- 
ural indulgence. Anne could perfectly compre- 
hend the exquisite relief, and was only the more 
inclined to wonder at the composure of her friend’s 
usual state of mind. 

There was one circumstance in the history of 
her grievances of particular irritation. She had 
good reason to believe that some property of her 
husband in the West Indies, which had been for 
many years under a sort of sequestration for the 
payment of its own incumbrances, might be re- 
coverable by proper measures ; and this property, 
though not large, would be enough to make her 
comparatively rich. But there was nobody to stir 
in it. Mr. Elliot would do nothing, and she 
could do nothing herself, equally disabled from 


PERSUASION. 


273 


personal exertion by her state of bodily weakness, 
and from employing others by her want of money. 
She had no natural connections to assist her even 
with their counsel, and she could not afford to 
purchase the assistance of the law. This was a 
cruel aggravation of actually straitened means. To 
feel that she ought to be in better circumstances, 
that a little trouble in the right place might do it, 
and to fear that delay might be even weakening 
her claims, was hard to bear! 

It was on this point that she had hoped to 
engage Anne’s good offices with Mr. Elliot. She 
had previouslj^, in the anticipation of their mar- 
riage, been very apprehensive of losing her friend 
by it; but on being assured that he could have 
made no attempt of that nature, since he did not 
even know her to be in Bath, it immediately 
occurred that something might be done in her 
favor by the influence of the woman he loved; 
and she had been hastily preparing to interest 
Anne’s feelings, as far as the observances due to 
Mr. Elliot’s character would allow, when Anne’s 
refutation of the supposed engagement changed the 
face of everything; and while it took from her 
the new-formed hope of succeeding in the object of 
her first anxiety, left her at least the comfort of 
telling the whole story her own way. 

After listening to this full description of Mr. 
Elliot, Anne could not but express some surprise at 
Mrs. Smith’s having spoken of him so favorably in 
the beginning of their conversation. She had 
seemed to recommend and praise him! ” 

My dear,” was Mrs. Smith’s replj^, ^Uhere 
18 


274 


PERSUASION. 


was nothing else to be done. I considered yonr 
marrying him as certain,'' though he might not yet 
have made the offer, and I could no more speak the 
truth of him than if he had been your husband. 
My heart bled for you, as I talked of happiness ; 
and yet he is sensible, he is agreeable, and with 
such a woman as you it was not absolutely hope- 
less. He was very unkind to his first wife. They 
were wretched together; but she was too ignorant 
and giddy for respect, and he had never loved lier. 
I was willing to hope that you must fare better.’^ 

Anne could . just acknowledge within herself 
such a possibility of having been induced to marry 
him as made her shudder at the idea of the misery 
which must have followed. It was just possible 
that she might have been persuaded by Lady 
Russell! And under such a supposition, which 
would have been most miserable, when time had 
disclosed all, too late? 

It was very desirable that Lady Russell should 
be no longer deceived; and one of the concluding 
arrangements of this important conference, which 
carried them through the greater part of the morn- 
ing, was that Anne had full liberty to communi- 
cate to her friend everything relative to Mrs. Smith 
in which his conduct was involved. 


PERSUASION. 


275 


CHAPTER XXII. 

Anne went home to think over all that she had 
heard. In one point her feelings were relieved 
by tliis knowledge of Mr. Elliot. There was no 
longer anything of tenderness due to him. He 
stood, as opposed to Captain Wentworth, in all his 
own unwelcome obtrusiveness; and the evil of his 
attentions last night, the irremediable mischief he 
might have done, was considered with sensations 
unqualified, unperplexed. Pity for him was all 
over. But this was the only point of relief. In 
every other respect, in looking around her, or 
penetrating forward, she saw more to distrust and 
to apprehend. She was concerned f )r the dis- 
appointment and pain Ladj^ Russell would be feel- 
ing, for the mortifications which must be hanging 
over her father and sister, and had all the distress of 
foreseeing many evils without knowing how to avert 
an}^ one of them. She was most thankful for her 
own knowledge of him. She had never considered 
herself as entitled to reward for not slighting 
an old friend like Mrs. Smith, but here was a reward 
indeed springing from it! Mrs. Smith had been 
able to tell her what no one else could have done. 
Could the knowledge have been extended through 
her family! But this was a vain idea. She must 
talk to Lady Russell, tell her, consult with her, and 


27G 


PERSUASION. 


Laving done lier best, wait the event with as much 
composure as possible; and, after all, her greatest 
want of composure would be in that quarter of the 
mind which could not be opened to Lady Russell, 
in that flow of anxieties and fears which must be all 
to herself. 

She found, on reaching home, that she had, as 
she intended, escaped seeing Mr. Elliot, — that he 
had called and paid them a long morning visit; but 
hardly had she congratulated herself, and felt safe 
till to-morrow, when she heard that he was coming 
again in the evening. 

I had not the smallest intention of asking 
him,^’ said Elizabeth, with affected carelessness, 
but he gave so many hints; so Mrs. Clay says, 
at least.’’ 

Indeed, I do say it. I never saw anybody in 
my life spell harder for an invitation. Poor man ! 
I was really in pain for him ; for your hard-hearted 
sister. Miss Anne, seems bent on cruelty.” 

‘‘Oil,” cried Elizabeth, have been rather 
too much used to the game to be soon overcome by 
a gentleman’s hints. However, when I found how 
excessively he was regretting that he should miss 
my father this morning, I gave way immediately, 
for I would never really omit an opportunity of 
bringing him and Sir Walter together. They 
appear to so much advantage in company with 
each other, — each behaving so pleasantly, Mr. 
Elliot looking up with so much respect.” 

Quite delightful! ” cried Mrs. Cla^q not dar- 
ing, however, to turn her e^^es towards Anne. 
“Exactly like father and son! Dear Miss Elliot, 
may I not say father and son? ” 


PERSUASION. 


277 


^‘Oh, I lay no embargo on anybody’s words. Tf 
you will have such ideas! But, upon my word, I 
am scarcely sensible of his attentions being beyond 
those of other men.” 

“ My dear Miss Elliot! ” exclaimed Mrs. Clay, 
lifting up her hands and eyes, and sinking all 
the rest of her astonishment in a convenient 
silence. 

“ Well, my dear Penelope, you need not be so 
alarmed about him. I did invite him, you know. 
I sent him away with smiles. When I found he 
was really going to his friends at Thornberry Park 
for the whole day to-morrow, I had compassion on 
him.” 

Anne admired the good acting of the friend, in 
being able to show such pleasure as she did in 
the expectation and in the actual arrival of the 
veiy person whose presence must really be interfer- 
ing with her prime object. It was impossible but 
that Mrs. Clay must hate the sight of Mr. Elliot; 
and yet she could assume a most obliging, placid 
look, and appear quite satisfied with the curtailed 
license of devoting herself only half as much to 
Sir Walter as she would have done otherwise. 

To Anne herself it was most distressing to see 
Mr. Elliot enter the room, and quite painful to 
have him approach and speak to her. She had 
been used before to feel that he could not be 
always quite sincere, but now she saw insincerity 
in everything. His attentive deference to her 
father, contrasted with his former language, was 
odious ; and when she thought of his cruel conduct 
towards Mrs. Smith, she could hardly bear the 


278 


PERSUASION. 


sight of his present smiles and mildness, or the 
sound of his artificial good sentiments. She meant 
to avoid any such alteration of manners as might 
])rovoke a remonstrance on his side. It was a great 
object with her to escape all inquiry or eclat; but 
it was her intention to he as decidedly cool to him 
as might be compatible with their relationship; 
and to retrace, as quietly as she could, the 
few steps of iinnecessary intimacy she had been 
gradually led along. She was accordingly more 
guarded and more cool than she had been the 
night before. 

He wanted to animate her curiosity again as to 
li nv and where he could have heard her formerly 
praised, wanted very much to be gratified by more 
solicitation; but the charm was broken. He found 
that the heat and animation of a juiblic room were 
necessary to kindle his modest cousin’s vanity ; he 
found, at least, that it was not to be done now, by 
any of those attempts which he could hazard 
among the too commanding claims of the others. 
He little surmised that it was a subject acting 
npw exactly against his interest, bringing imme- 
diately into her thoughts all those parts of his 
cmduct which were least excusable. 

She had some satisfaction in finding that he was 
really going out of Bath the next morning, going 
early, and that he would be gone the greater part 
of two days. He was invited again to Camden 
Place the very evening of his return; but from 
Thursday to Saturday evening his absence was cer- 
tain. It was bad enough that a Mrs. Clay should 
be always before her; but that a deeper hj^pocrite 


PERSUASION. 


279 


should be added to their party seemed the destruc- 
tion of everything like peace and comfort. It was 
so humiliating to reflect on the. constant deception 
practised on her father and Elizabeth; to consider 
the various sources of mortification preparing for 
them. Mrs. Clay’s selfishness was not so compli- 
cate nor so revolting as his ; and Anne would have 
compounded for the marriage at once, with all its 
evils, to be clear of Mr. Elliot’s subtleties in en- 
deavoring to prevent it. . 

On Eriday morning she meant to go very early 
to Lady Eussell, and accomplish the necessary 
communication; and she would have gone directly 
after breakfast, but that Mrs. Clay was also going 
out on some obliging purpose of saving her sister 
trouble, which determined her to wait till she 
might be safe from such a companion. She saw 
Mrs. Clay fairly off, therefore, before she began to 
talk of spending the morning in Eivers Street. 

^‘Yery well,” said Elizabeth, have nothing 
to send but my love. Oh ! you may as well take 
back that tiresome book she would lend me, and 
pretend I have read it through. I really cannot 
be plaguing myself forever with all the new poems 
and states of the nation that come out. Lady 
Eussell quite bores one with her new publications. 
You need not tell her so, but I thought her dress 
hideous the other night. I used to think she had 
some taste in dress, but I was ashamed of her at 
the concert. Something so formal and arrange in 
her air! and she sits so upright! My best love, 
of course.” 

‘^And mine,” added Sir Walter. Kindest 


280 


PERSUASION. 


regards. And you may say that I mean to call 
upon her soon. Make a civil message. But I 
shall only leave my card. Morning visits are 
never fair by women at her time of life, who make 
themselves up so little. If she w^ould only wear 
rouge, she would not be afraid of being seen ; hut 
last time I called, I observed the blinds were let 
down immediately.’^ 

While her father spoke, there was a knock at the 
door. Who could it be? Anne, remembering the 
preconcerted visits, at all hours, of Mr. Elliot, 
would have expected him, but for his known en- 
gagement seven miles off. After the usual period 
of suspense, the usual sounds of approach were 
heard, and “Mr. and Mrs. Charles Musgrove” w’^ere 
ushered into the room. 

Surprise was the strongest emotion raised by 
their appearance ; but Anne was really glad to see 
them, and the others were not so sorry but that they 
could put on a decent air of welcome; and as soon 
as it became clear that these, their nearest rela- 
tions, were not arrived with any views of accommo- 
dation in that house. Sir Walter and Elizabeth 
were able to rise in cordiality, and do the honors 
of it very well. They were come to Bath for a few 
days with Mrs. Musgrove, and were at the White 
Hart. So much was pretty soon understood; but 
till Sir Walter and Elizabeth were walking Mary 
into the other drawing-room, and regaling them- 
selves with her admiration, Anne could not draw 
upon Charles’s brain for a regular history of their 
coming, or an explanation of some smiling hints 
of particular business, which had been ostenta- 


PERSUASION. 


281 


tiously dropped by Mary, as well as of some appar- 
ent confusion as to whom their party consisted of. 

She then found that it consisted of Mrs. Mus- 
grove, Henrietta, and Captain Harville, besides- 
their two selves. He gave her a very plain, intelli- 
gible account of the whole; a narration in which she 
saw a great deal of most characteristic proceeding. 
The scheme had received its first impulse by Cap- 
tain Harville’s w^anting to come to Bath on busi- 
ness. He had begun to talk of it a week ago; and 
by way of doing something, as shooting was 
over, Charles had proposed coming with him, and 
Mrs. Harville had seemed to like the idea of it 
ver}^ much, as an advantage to her husband; but 
Mary could not bear to be left, and had made her- 
self so unhappy about it that for a day or two 
everything seemed to be in suspense or at an end. 
But then, it had been taken up by his father and 
mother. His mother had some old friends in Bath, 
whom she wanted to see; it was thought a good 
opportunity for Henrietta to come and buy wed- 
ding-clothes for herself and her sister; and, in 
short, it ended in being his mother’s party, that 
everything might be comfortable and easy to Cap- 
tain Harville; and he and Mary were included in 
it, by way of general convenience. They had ar- 
rived late the night before. Mrs. Harville, her 
children, and Captain Benwick remained with 
Mr. Musgrove and Louisa at Uppercross. 

Anne’s only surprise was that affairs should be 
in forwardness enough for Henrietta’s wedding- 
clothes to be talked of: she had imagined such dif- 
ficulties of fortune to exist there as must prevent 


282 


PERSUASION. 


the marriage from being near at hand; hut she 
learned from Charles that very recently (since 
Mary’s last letter to herself) Charles Hayter had 
been applied to by a friend to hold a livdng for a 
youth who could not possibly claim it under many 
years; and that, on the strength of this present in- 
come, with almost a certainty of something more 
permanent long before the term in question, the 
two families had consented to the young people’s 
wishes, and that their marriage was likely to take 
place in a few months, quite as soon as Louisa’s. 

And a very good living it was,” Charles added : 
^^only five-and-twenty miles from Uppercross, and 
in a very fine country, — fine part of Dorsetshire. 
In the centre of some of the best preserves in the 
kingdom, surrounded by three great proprietors, 
each more careful and jealous than the other; and 
to two of the three, at least, Charles Hayter might 
get a special recommendation. Hot that he will 
value it as he ought,” he observed: Charles is too 
cool about sporting. That ’s the worst of him.” 

am extremely glad, indeed,” cried Anne, 
^‘particularly glad that this should happen; and 
that of two sisters, who both deserve equally well, 
and who have always been such good friends, 
the pleasant prospects of one should not be dim- 
ming those of the other, — that they should be so 
equal in their prosperity and comfort. I hope your 
father and mother are quite happy with regard to 
both.” 

“Oh, yes! My father would be as well pleased 
if the gentlemen were richer, but he has no other 
fault to find. Money, you know, coming down 


PERSUASION. 


283 


witli money, — two daughters at once, — it cannot 
be a very agreeable operation, and it straitens him 
as to many things. However, I do not mean to 
say they have not a right to it. It is very fit they 
should have daughters’ shares; and I am sure he 
has always been a very kind, liberal father to me. 
Mary does not above half like Henrietta’s match. 
She never did, jmu know. But she does not do 
him justice, nor think enough about Winthrop. 
I cannot make her attend to the value of the prop- 
erty. It is a very fair match, as times go; and I 
have liked Charles Hayter all my life, and I shall 
not leave off now,” 

^‘Such excellent parents as Mr, and Mrs. Mus- 
grove,” exclaimed Anne, ‘^should be happy in 
their children’s marriages. They do everything to 
confer happiness, I am sure. What a blessing to 
young people to be in such hands! Your father 
and mother seem so totally free from all those am- 
bitious feelings which have led to so much miscon- 
duct and misery, both in young and old! I hope 
you think Louisa perfectly recovered now? ” 

He answered rather hesitatingly: ‘‘Yes, I be- 
lieve I do, — very much recovered; but she is al- 
tered. There is no running or jumping about, no 
laughing or dancing; it is quite different. If one 
happens only to shut the door a little hard, she 
starts and wriggles like a young dab-chick in the 
water; and Benwick sits at her elbow, reading 
verses, or whispering to her, all day long.” 

Anne could not help laughing. “That cannot 
be much to your taste, I know,” said she; “but 
I do believe him to be an excellent young man.” 


284 


PERSUASION. 


To be sure he is. Nobody doubts it; and I 
hope you do not think I am so illiberal as to u'ant 
every man to have the same objects and jdeasures as 
myself. I have a great value for Benwick; and 
when one can but get him to talk, he has plenty to 
say. His reading has done him no harm, for he has 
fought as well as read. He is a brave fellow. I 
got more acquainted with him last Monday than 
ever I did before. We had a famous set-to at rat- 
hunting all the morning, in my father’s great 
barns; and he played his part so well that I have 
liked him the better ever since.” 

Here' they were interrupted by the absolute neces- 
sity of Charles’s following the others to admire 
mirrors and china; but Anne had heard enough to 
understand the present state of Uppercross, and 
rejoice in its happiness; and though she sighed as 
she rejoiced, her sigh had none of the ill-will of 
envy in it. She would certainly have risen to 
their blessings if she could, but she did not want 
to lessen theirs. 

The visit passed off altogether in high good- 
humor. Mary was in excellent spirits, enjoying 
the gayety and the change; and so well satisfied 
with the journey in her mother-in-law’s carriage 
with four horses, and with her own complete inde- 
pendence of Camden Place, that she was exactly 
in a temper to admire everything as she ought, 
and enter most readily into all the superiorities of 
the house, as they were detailed to her. She had 
no demands on her fatlier or sister, and her conse- 
quence was just enough increased by their hand- 
some drawing-rooms. 


PERSUASION. 


285 


Elizabeth was for a short time suffering a good 
deal. She felt that Mrs. Musgrove and all her 
party ought to be asked to dine with them; but 
she could not bear to have the difference of style, 
the reduction of servants, which a dinner must 
betray, witnessed by those who had been always 
so inferior to the Elliots of Kellynch. It was a 
struggle between propriety and vanity ; but vanity 
got the better, and then Elizabeth was happy 
again. These were her internal persuasions: 
“Old-fashioned notions — country hospitality — 
we do not profess to give dinners — few people in 
Bath do — Lady Alicia never does; did not even 
ask her own sister’s family, though the^?- were here 
a month; and I dare say it would be very incon- 
venient to Mrs. Musgrove — put her quite out of 
her way. 1 am sure she would rather not come ; 
she cannot feel easy with us. I will ask them all 
for an evening; that will be much better, — that 
will be a novelty and a treat. They have not seen 
two such drawing-rooms before. They will be de- 
lighted to come to-morrow evening. It shall be a 
regular party, — small, but most elegant.” And 
this satisfied Elizabeth; and when the invitation 
was given to the two present, and promised for the 
absent, Mary was as completely satisfied. She 
was particularly asked to meet Mr. Elliot, and be 
introduced to Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret, 
who were fortunately already engaged to come; 
and she could not have received a more gratifying 
attention. Miss Elliot was to have the honor of 
calling on Mrs. Musgrove in the course of the 
morning; and Anne walked off with Charles and 
Mary, to go and see her and Henrietta directly. 


286 


PEK SUASION. 


Her plan of sitting with Lady Russell must 
give wa}^ for the present. They all three called in 
Rivers Street for a couple of minutes j hut Anne 
convinced herself that a day’s delay of the in- 
tended communication could be of no consequence, 
and hastened forward to the White Hart, to see 
again the friends and companions of the last 
autumn, with an eagerness of good-will whicl:^ 
many associations contributed to form. 

They found Mrs. Musgrove and her daughter 
within, and by themselves, and Anne had the 
kindest welcome from each. Henrietta was ex- 
actly in that state of recently improved views, of 
fresh-formed happiness, which made her full of 
regard and interest for everybody she had ever 
liked before at all; and Mrs. Musgrove’s real 
affection had been won by her usefulness wdien 
they were in distress. It was a heartiness and a 
warmth and a sincerity which Anne delighted in 
the more, from the sad want of such blessings at 
home. She was entreated to give them as much of 
her time as possible, invited for every day and all 
day long, or rather claimed as a part of the fam- 
ily; and in return, she naturally fell into all her 
wonted ways of attention and assistance ; and on 
Charles’s leaving them together, was listening to 
Mrs. Musgrove’s history of Louisa, and to Henri- 
etta’s of herself, giving opinions on business, and 
recommendations to shops; with intervals of every 
help which Mary required, from altering her 
riband to settling her accounts, from finding her 
keys and assorting her trinkets to trying to con- 
vince her that she was not ill-used by anybody, — 


PERSUASION. 


287 


whicli Mary, ’well amused as she generally was in 
her station at a window overlooking the entrance 
to the Pump-room, could not hut have her moments 
of imagining. 

A morning of thorough confusion was to he 
expected. A large party in an hotel insured a 
quick-changing, unsettled scene. One five minutes 
brought a note, the next a parcel ; and Anne had 
not been there half an hour, when their dining- 
room, spacious as it was, seemed more than half 
filled. A party of steady old friends were seated 
round Mrs. Musgrove, and Charles came back with 
Captains Harville and Wentworth. The appear- 
ance of the latter could not be more than the sur- 
prise of the moment. It was impossible for her to 
have forgotten to feel that this arrival of their 
common friends must be soon bringing them 
together again. Their last meeting had been 
most important in opening his feelings; she had 
derived from it a delightful conviction; but she 
feared from his looks that the same unfortunate 
persuasion which had hastened him away from 
the concert-room, still governed. He did not seem 
to want to be near enough for conversation 

She tried to be calm, and leave things to take 
their course ; and tried to dwell much on this argu- 
ment of rational dependence: ^‘Surely, if there 
be constant attachment on each side, our hearts 
must understand each other erelong. We are not 
boy and girl, to be captiously irritable, misled by 
every moment’s inadvertence, and wantonly play- 
ing with our own happiness.” And yet, a few 
minutes afterwards, she felt as if their being in 


238 


PERSUASION. 


company with each other, under tlieir present 
circumstances, could only he exposing them to 
inadvertences and misconstructions of the most 
mischievous kind. 

“Anne,’’ cried Mary, still at her window, 
“there is Mrs. Clay, I am sure, standing under 
the colonnade, and a gentleman with her. I saw 
them turn the corner from Bath Street just now. 
They seem deep in talk. Who is it? Come and 
tell me. Good heavens! I recollect. It is Mr. 
Elliot himself.” 

“No,” cried Anne, quickly, “it cannot be Mr. 
Elliot, I assure you. He was to leave Bath at 
nine this morning, * and does not come back till 
to-morrow.” 

As she spoke, she felt that Captain Wentworth 
was looking at her; the consciousness of which 
vexed and embarrassed her, and made her regret 
that she had said so much, simple as it was. 

Mary, resenting that she should be supposed 
not to know her own cousin, began talking very 
warmly about the family features, and protesting 
still more positively that it was Mr. Elliot, calling 
again upon Ajine to come and look herself; but 
Anne did not mean to stir, and tried to be cool 
and unconcerned. Her distress returned, however, 
on perceiving smiles and intelligent glances pass 
between two or three of the lady visitors, as if 
they believed themselves quite in the secret. It 
was evident that the report concerning her had 
spread; and a short pause succeeded, which seemed 
to insure that it would now spread farther. 

“Do come, Anne,” cried Mary, ‘^come and look 


PERSUASION. 


289 


yourself. You will be too late, if you do not mabe 
haste. They are parting, they are shaking hands. 
He is turning away. Not know Mr. Elliot, in- 
deed! You seem to have forgot all about Lyme.’’ 

To pacify Mary, and perhaps screen her own 
embarrassment, Anne did move quietly to the 
window. She was just in time to ascertain that it 
really was Mr. Elliot (which she had never be- 
lieved), before he disappeared on one side, as Mrs. 
Clay walked quickl}'- off on the other; and check- 
ing the surprise whiqh she could not but feel at 
such an appearance of friendly conference between 
two persons of totally opposite interests, she calmly 
said, ‘^Yes, it is Mr. Elliot certainly. He has 
changed his hour of going, T suppose, that is all — 
or I may be mistaken; I might not attend;” and 
walked back to her chair, recomposed, and with the 
comfortable hope of having acquitted herself well. 

The visitors took their leave ; and Charles, hav- 
ing civilly seen them off, and then made a face at 
them, and abused them for coming, began with, — 
Well, mother, I have done something for you 
that you will like. I have been to the theatre, 
and secured a box for to-morrow night. A’n’t I a 
good boy? I know you love a play; and there is 
room for us all. It holds nine. I have engaged 
Captain Wentworth. Anne will not be sorry to 
join us, I am sure. We all like a play. Have 
not I done well, mother? ” 

Mrs. Musgrove w^as good-humoredly beginning 
to express her perfect readiness for the play, if 
Henrietta and all the others liked it, when Mary 
eagerly interrupted her by exclaiming, — 

19 


290 


PERSUASION. 


Good heavens, Charles! how can yon think 
of such a thing? Take a box for to-morrow 
night! Have you forgot that we are engaged to 
Camden Place to-morrow night? and that we were 
most particularly asked on purpose to meet Lady 
Dalrymple and her daughter, and Mr. Elliot, — all 
the principal family connections, — on purpose 
to he introduced to them? How can you be so 
forgetful? 

‘‘Phoo! phoo!^^ replied Charles, what ^s an 
evening party? Hever worth remembering. Your 
father might have asked us to dinner, I think, if 
he had wanted to see us. You may do as you 
like, but I shall go to the play.^^ 

‘‘Oh, Charles, I declare it will be too abomi- 
nable if you do, when you promised to go.’’ 

“No, I did not promise. I only smirked and 
bowed, and said the word ‘Happy.’ There was 
no promise.” 

“But you must go, Charles. It would be un- 
pardonable to fail. We were asked on purpose to 
be introduced. There was always such a great 
connection between the Dalrymples and ourselves. 
Nothing ever happened on either side that was 
not announced immediately. We are quite near 
relations, you know; and Mr. Elliot, too, whom 
you ought so particularly to be acquainted with ! 
Every attention is due to Mr. Elliot. Consider, 
my father’s heir, — the future representative of the 
family.” 

“Don’t talk to me about heirs and representa- 
tives,” cried Charles. “I am not one of those 
who neglect the reigning power to bow to the 


PERSUASION. 


291 


rising sun. If I would not go for the sake of 
your father, I should think it scandalous to go 
for the sake of his heir. What is Mr. Elliot to 
me? ” 

The careless expression was life to Anne, who 
saw that Captain Wentworth was all attention, 
looking and listening with his whole soul; and 
that the last words brought his inquiring eyes 
from Charles to herself. 

Charles and Mary still talked on in the same 
style, — he half serious and half jesting, maintain- 
ing the scheme for the play; and she invariably 
serious, most warmly opposing it, and not omit- 
ting to make it known, that, however determined 
to go to Camden Place herself, she should not 
think herself very well used, if they went to the 
play without her. Mrs. Musgrove interposed. 

^We had better put it off. Charles, you had 
much better go back, and change the box for 
Tuesday. It would be a pity to be divided, and 
%ve should be losing Miss Anne too, if there is a 
party at her father’s; and I am sure neither 
Henrietta nor I should care at all for the play if 
;Miss Anne could not be with us.” 

Anne felt truly obliged to her for such kind- 
ness; and quite as much so, moreover, for the 
opportunity it gave her of decidedly saying, — 

^Mf it depended only on my inclination, ma’am, 
the party at home, excepting on Mary’s account, 
would not be the smallest impediment. I have no 
pleasure in the sort of meeting, and should be too 
happy to change it for a play, and with you. 
But it had better not be attempted, perhaps.” 


292 


PERSUASION. 


She had spoken it 5 but she trembled when 
it was done, conscious that her words were lis- 
tened to, and daring not even to try to observe 
their effect. 

It was soon generally agreed that Tuesday 
should he the day; Charles only reserving the 
advantage of still teasing his wife, by persisting 
that he w^ould go to the play to-morrow, if no- 
body else would. 

Captain Wentworth left his seat, and walked to 
the fireplace; probably for the sake of walking 
away from it soon afterwards, and taking a sta- 
tion, with less barefaced design, by Anne. 

‘‘You have not been long enough in Bath,” 
said he, “to enjoy the evening parties of the 
2 )lace.” 

“Oh, no. The usual character of them has 
nothing for me. I am no card-player.” 

“You were not formerly, 1 know. You did 
not use to like cards ; but time makes many 
changes.’’ 

“ 1 am not yet so much changed, ” cried Anne, and 
stopped, fearing she hardly knew what misconstruc- 
tion. After waiting a few moments, he said, and 
as if it were the result of immediate feeling: 
“It is a period, indeed! Eight years and a half 
is a period! ” 

Whether he would have proceeded farther was 
left to Anne’s imagination to ponder over in a 
calmer hour; for while still hearing the sounds he 
had uttered, she was startled to other subjects by 
Henrietta, eager to make use of the present leis- 
ure for getting out, and calling on her companions 


PERSUASION. 293 

to lose no time, lest somebody else should come 
ill. 

They were obliged to move. Anne talked of be- 
ing perfectly ready, and tried to look it; but she 
felt that could Henrietta have known the regret 
and reluctance of her heart in quitting that chair, 
in preparing to quit the room, she would have 
found in all her own sensations for her cousin, in 
the very security of his affection, wherewith to 
pity her. 

Their preparations, however, were stopped 
short. Alarming sounds were heard; other vis- 
itors approached, and the door was thrown open 
for Sir Walter and Miss Elliot, whose entrance 
seemed to give a general chill. Anne felt an 
instant oppression, and, wherever she looked, saw 
symptoms of the same. The comfort, the freedom, 
the gayety of the room was over, hushed into cold 
composure, determined silence, or insipid talk, to 
meet the heartless elegance of her father and sis- 
ter. How mortifying to feel that it was so! 

Her jealous eye was satisfied in one particular. 
Captain Wentworth was acknowledged again by 
each, — by Elizabeth more graciously than before. 
She even addressed him once, and looked at him 
more than once. Elizabeth was, in fact, revolving 
a great measure. The sequel explained it. After 
the waste of a few minutes in saying the proper 
nothings, she began to give the invitation which 
was to compromise all the remaining dues of the 
Musgroves. “To-morrow evening, to meet a few 
friends; no formal part3^’’ It was all said very 
gracefully; and the cards with which she had pro- 


294 


PERSUASION. 


vided herself, the ‘‘Miss Elliot at home,’’ were 
laid on the table, with a courteous, comprehensive 
smile to all, and one smile and one card more de- 
cidedly for Captain Wentworth. The truth was, 
that Elizabeth had been long enough in Bath to 
understand the importance of a man of such an 
air and appearance as his. The past was noth- 
ing; the present was that Captain Wentworth 
would move about well in her drawing-room. The 
card was pointedly given, and Sir Walter and 
Elizabeth arose and disappeared. 

The interruption had been short, though se- 
vere; and ease and animation returned to most 
of those they left, as the door shut them out, but 
not to Anne. She could think only of the in- 
vitation she had with such astonishment wit- 
nessed; and of the manner in which it had been 
received, a manner of doubtful meaning, of surprise 
rather than gratification, of polite acknowledgment 
rather than acceptance. She knew him ; she saw 
disdain in his eye. and could not venture to believe 
that he had determined to accept such an offering as 
atonement for all the insolence of the past. Her spir- 
its said^. He held the card in his hand after 
they were gone, as if deeply considering it. 

“Only think of Elizabeth’s including every- 
body ! ” whispered Mary, very audibly. “ I do not 
wonder Captain Wentworth is delighted! You see 
he cannot put the card out of his hand.” 

Anne caught his eye, saw his cheeks glow, and 
his mouth form itself into a momentary expression 
of contempt, and turned away, that she might 
neither see nor hear more to vex her. 


PERVASION. 


295 


The party separated. The gentlemen had their 
own pursuits, the ladies proceeded on their own 
business; and they met no more while Anne be- 
longed to them. She was earnestly begged to 
return and dine, and give them all the rest of the 
day; but her spirits had been so long exerted 
that at present she felt unequal to move, and fit 
only for home, where she might be sure of being 
as silent as she chose. 

Promising to be with them the whole of the 
following morning, therefore, she closed the ^fa- 
tigues of the present by a toilsome walk to Camden 
Place, there to spend the evening chiefly in lis- 
tening to the busy arrangements of Elizabeth and 
Mrs. Glaj" for the morrow^s party, the frequent 
enumeration of the persons invited, and the con- 
tinually improving detail of all the embellishments 
which were to make it the most completely ele- 
gant of its kind in Bath, while harassing herself 
in secret with the never-ending question, of 
whether Captain Wentworth would come or not? 
They were reckoning him as certain; but wdth 
her it was a gnawing solicitude never appeased 
for five minutes together. She generally thought 
he would come, because she generally thought he 
ought; but it was a case which she could not 
so shape into any positive act of duty or discre- 
tion as inevitably to defy the suggestions of very 
opposite feelings. 

She only roused herself from the broodings of 
this restless agitation, to let Mrs. Clay know that 
she had been seen with Mr, Elliot three hours 
after his being supposed to be out of Bath; for 


296 


PERSUASION. 


having watched in vain for some intimation of the 
interview from the lady herself, she determined to 
mention it; and it seemed to her that there was 
guilt in Mrs. Clay’s face as she listened. It was 
transient, cleared away in an instant; but Anne 
could imagine she read there the consciousness of 
having, by 'some complication of mutual trick, or 
some overbearing authority of his, been obliged to 
attend (perhaps for half an hour) to his lectures 
and restrictions on her designs on Sir Walter. 
She exclaimed, however, with a very tolerable 
imitation of nature, — 

‘‘Oh dear! very true. Only think. Miss Elliot, 
to my great surprise I met with Mr. Elliot in 
Bath Street! I was never more astonished. He 
turned back and walked with me to the Pump- 
yard. He had been prevented setting off for 
Thornberiy, but I really forget by wliat, — for I 
was in a hurry, and could not much attend, and I 
can only answer for his being determined not to be 
dela3^ed in his return. He wanted to know how 
early he might be admitted to-morrow. He was 
full of ‘to-morrow; ’ and it is very evident that I 
have been full of it too, ever since I entered the 
house, and learned the extension of jmur plan, 
and all that had happened, or my seeing him 
could never have gone so entirely out of my 
head. ’ ’ 


PERSUASION. 


297 


CHAPTEE XXIII. 

One day only had passed since Anne^s conversa- 
tion with Mrs. Smith; but a keener interest had 
succeeded, and she was now so little touched by 
Mr. Elliot’s conduct, except by its effects in one 
quarter, that it became a matter of course, the 
next morning, still to defer her explanatory visit 
in Eivers Street. She had promised to he with 
the Musgroves from breakfast to dinner. Her 
faith was plighted; and Mr. Elliot’s character, 
like the Sultaness Scheherazade’s head, must live 
another day. 

She could not keep her appointment punctually, 
however; the weather was unfavorable, and she 
had grieved over the rain on her friend’s account, 
and felt it very much on her own, before she was 
able to attempt the walk. When she reached the 
White Hart, and made her way to the proper 
apartment, she found herself neither arriving quite 
in time, nor the first to arrive. The party before 
her were, Mrs. Musgrove talking to Mrs. Croft, 
and Captain Harville to Captain Wentworth; and 
she immediately heard that Mar}^ and Henrietta, 
too impatient to wait, had gone out the moment it 
had cleared, but would be back again soon, and 
that the strictest injunctions had been left with 
Mrs. Musgrove to keep her there till they re- 


298 


PERSUASION. 


turned. She had only to submit, sit down, he 
outwardly composed, and feel herself plunged at 
once in all the agitations which she had merely 
laid her account of tasting a little before the 
morning closed. There was no delay, no waste of 
time. She was deep in the happiness of such 
misery, or the misery of such happiness, instantly. 
Two minutes after her entering the room. Captain 
Wentworth said, — 

We will write the letter we were talking of, 
Harville, now, if you will give me materials.” 

Materials were all at hand, on a separate table; 
he went to it, and nearly turning his hack on them 
all, was engrossed by writing. 

Mrs. Musgrove was giving Mrs. Croft the his- 
tory of her eldest daughter’s engagement, and just 
in that inconvenient tone of voice which w'as per- 
fectly audible while it pretended to be a whisper. 
Anne felt that she did not belong to the conver- 
sation, and yet, as Captain Harville seemed 
thoughtful and not disposed to talk, she could not 
avoid hearing many undesirable particulars, — such 
as, ^‘how Mr. Musgrove and my brother Hayter 
had met again and again to talk it over; what my 
brother Hayter had said one day, and what Mr. 
Musgrove had proposed the next; and what had 
occurred to my sister Hayter, and what the young 
people had wished; and wdiat I said at first I never 
could consent to, but was afterwards persuaded to 
think might do very well; ” and a great deal in the 
same style of open-hearted communication, — mi- 
nutiae which, even with every advantage of taste 
and delicacy which good Mrs. Musgrove could not 


PERSUASION. 


299 


give, could be properly interesting only to the 
principals. Mrs. Croft was attending witli great 
good-humor; and whenever she spoke at all, it was 
very sensibly. Anne hoped the gentlemen might 
each be too much self-occupied to hear. 

‘^And so, ma’am, all these things considered,” 
said Mrs. Musgrove, in her powerful whisper, 
‘‘though we could have wished it different, yet, 
altogether, we did not think it fair to stand out 
any longer; for Charles Hayter was quite wild 
about it, and Henrietta was pretty near as bad; 
and so we thought they had better marry at once, 
and make the best of it, as many others have done 
before them. ‘At any rate,’ said I, ‘it will be 
better than a long engagement.’ ” 

“That is precisely what I was going to observe,” 
cried Mrs. Croft. “I would rather have young 
people settle on a small income at once, and have 
to struggle with a few difficulties together, than 
be involved in a long engagement. I always 
think that no mutual — ” 

“Oh! dear Mrs. Croft,” cried Mrs. Musgrove, 
unable to let her finish her speech, “ there is noth- 
ing I so abominate for young people as a long 
engagement. It is what I always protested against 
for my children. It is all very well, I used to say, 
for young people to be engaged if there is a cer- 
tainty of their being able to marry in six months, 
or even in twelve; but a long engagement! ” 

“Yes, dear ma’am,” said Mrs. Croft, “or an 
uncertain engagement, — an engagement which may 
be long. To begin without knowing that at such 
a time there will be the means of marrying, I hold 


300 


PERSUASION. 


to be very unsafe and unwise, and what I think 
all parents should prevent as far as they can.’’ 

Anne found an unexpected interest here. She 
felt it in its application to herself, — felt it in a 
nervous thrill all over her; and at the same mo- 
ment that her eyes instinctively glanced towards 
the distant table. Captain Wentworth’s pen ceased 
to move, his head was raised, pausing, listening; 
and he turned round the next instant to give a 
look — one quick, conscious look — at her. 

The two ladies continued to talk, to re-urge the 
same admitted truths, and enforce them with such 
examples of the ill effect of a contrary practice as 
had fallen within their observation; but Anne 
heard nothing distinctly, — it was only abuzz of 
words in her ear, her mind was in confusion. 

Captain Harville, who had in truth been hearing 
none of it, now left his seat, and moved to a win- 
dow; and Anne, seeming to watch him, though it 
was from thorough absence of mind, became gradu- 
ally sensible that he was inviting her to join him 
where he stood. He looked at her with a smile 
and a little motion of the head, which expressed, 
“ Come to me, I have something to say; ” and the 
unaffected, easy kindness of manner which denoted 
the feelings of an older acquaintance than he 
really was, strongly enforced the invitation. She 
roused herself and went to him. The window at 
which he stood was at the other end of the room 
from where the two ladies were sitting; and though 
nearer to Captain Wentworth’s table, not very 
near. As she joined him. Captain Harville’s 
countenance reassumed the serious, thoughtful ex- 
pression which seemed its natural character. 


PERSUASION. 


301 


^‘Look here,’’ said he, unfolding a parcel in his 
hand, and displaying a small miniature painting, 
‘^do you know who that is? ” 

Certainly, Captain Benwick.” 

^‘Yes, and you may guess who it is for. But,” 
in a deep tone, ^‘it was not done for her. Miss 
Elliot, do you remember our walking together at 
Lyme, and grieving for him? I little thought 
then — But no matter. This was drawn at the 
Cape. He met with a clever young German artist 
at the Cape, and in compliance with a promise to 
my poor sister, sat to him, and was bringing it 
home for her. And I have now the charge of get- 
ting it properly set for another! It was a com- 
mission to me! But who else was there to employ’ ? 
I hope I can allow for him. I am not sorry, 
indeed, to make it over to another. He under- 
takes it,” looking towards Captain Wentworth; 
‘‘he is writing about it now.” And with a quiv- 
ering lip he wound up the whole by adding, “ Poor 
Fanny! she would not have forgotten him so 
soon.” 

“Ho,” replied Anne, in a low, feeling voice; 
“that T can easily believe.” 

“ It was not in her nature. She doted on him.” 

“It would not be the nature of any woman w^ho 
truly loved.” 

Captain Harville smiled, as much as to say, 
“ Do you claim that for your sex?” and she an- 
swered the question, smiling also: “Yes. We cer- 
tainly do not forget you so soon as you forget us. 
It is, perhaps, our fate rather than our merit. We 
cannot help ourselves. We live at home, quiet. 


302 


PERSUASION. 


con fined; and our feelings prey upon us. You are 
forced on exertion. You have always a profession, 
pursuits, business of some sort or other, to take you 
hack into the world immediately, and continual oc- 
cupation and change soon weaken impressions.’’ 

‘‘ Granting your assertion that the world does 
all this so soon for men (which, however, I do 
not think I shall grant), it does not apply to 
Benwick. He has not been forced upon any ex- 
ertion. The peace turned him on shore at the 
very moment, and he has been living with us, in 
our little family circle, ever since.” 

‘‘True,” said Ynne, “very true, — I did not 
recollect; but what shall we say now. Captain 
Ilarville? If the change be not from outward 
circumstances, it must be from within; it must 
be nature, man’s nature, which has done the busi- 
ness for Captain Benwick.” 

“Ho, no, it is not man’s nature. I will not allow 
it to be more man’s nature than woman’s to be in- 
constant and forget those the}^ do love or have loved. 
I believe the reverse. I believe in a true analogy 
between our bodily frames and our mental; and 
tliat as our bodies are the strongest, so are our 
feelings; capable of bearing most rough usage, 
and riding out the heaviest weather.” 

“Your feelings may be the strongest,” replied 
Anne, ‘ ‘ but the same spirit of analogy will author- 
ize me to assert that ours are the most tender. 
Man is more robust than woman, but he is not 
longer lived; which exactly explains my view of 
the nature of their attachments. Hay, it would 
be too hard upon you, if it were otherwise. You 


PEKSUASION. 


303 


have difficulties and privations and dangers 
enough to struggle with. You are always labor- 
ing and toiling, exposed to every risk and hard- 
ship, — your home, country, friends, all quitted ; 
neither time nor health nor life to be called 
your own. It would be too hard indeed,’’ with 
a faltering voice, ^Mf woman’s feelings were to 
be added to all this.” 

“We shall never agree upon this question,” 
Captain Harville was beginning to say, when a 
slight noise called their attention to Captain 
Wentworth’s hitherto perfectly quiet division of 
the room. It was nothing more than that his pen 
had fallen down; but Anne was startled at find- 
ing him nearer than she had supposed, and half 
inclined to suspect that the pen had only fallen, 
because he had been occupied by them, striving 
to catch sounds which yet she did not think he 
could have caught. 

“Have you finished your letter?” said Cap- 
tain Harville. 

“Not quite, — a few lines more. I shall have 
done in. five minutes.” 

“There is no hurry on my side. I am only 
ready whenever you are. I am in very good 
anchorage here,” smiling at Anne, “well sup- 
plied, and w^ant for nothing. No hurry for a 
signal at all. Well, Miss Elliot,” lowering his 
voice, “as I was saying, we shall never agree, I 
suppose, upon this point. No man and woman 
would, probably. But let me observe that all 
histories are against you; all stories, prose and 
verse. If I had such a memory as Benwick, I 


304 


PERSUASION. 


could bring you fifty quotations in a moment on 
my side of tlie argument, and I do not think I 
ever opened a book in my life which had not some- 
thing to say upon woman’s inconstancy. Songs 
and proverbs, all talk of woman’s fickleness. 
But perhaps you will say these were all written 
by men.” 

Perhaps I shall. Yes, yes, if you please, no 
reference to examples in books. Men have had 
every advantage of us in telling their own story. 
Education has been theirs in so much higher a 
degree; the pen has been in their hands. I will 
not allow books to prove anything.” 

‘‘ But how shall we prove anything? ” 

‘^We never shall. We never can expect to 
prove anything upon such a point. It is a differ- 
ence of opinion which does not admit of proof. 
We each begin, probably, with a little bias to- 
wards our own sex, and upon that bias build 
every circumstance in favor of it which has oc- 
curred within our own circle; many of which cir- 
cumstances, perhaps those very cases which strike 
us the most, may be precisely such as cannot be 
brought forward without betraying a confidence, 
or in some respect saying what should not be 
said.” 

^^Ah!” cried Captain Harville, in a tone of 
strong feeling, ^^if I could but make you compre- 
hend what a man suffers when he takes a last look 
at his wife and children, and watches the boat 
that he has sent them off in as long as it is in 
sight, and then turns away and says, ‘ God 
knows whether we ever meet again! ’ And then. 


PERSUASION. 


305 


if I could convey to you the glow of his soul 
when he does see them again; when coming back 
after a twelvemonth’s absence, perhaps, and 
obliged to put into another port, he calculates how 
soon it he possible to get them there, pretending to 
deceive himself, and saying, ^ They cannot be here 
till such a day,’ but all the while hoping for 
them twelve hours sooner, and seeing them ar- 
rive at last, as if Heaven had given them wings, 
by many hours sooner still ! If I could explain to 
you all this, and all that a man can bear and do, 
and glories to do, for the sake of these treasures 
of his existence ! I speak, you know, only of such 
men as have hearts!” pressing his own with 
emotion. 

‘^Oh! ” cried Anne, eagerly, hope I do jus- 
tice to all that is felt by you, and by those who 
resemble you. God forbid that I should under- 
value the warm and faithful feelings of any of my 
fellow-creatures. I should deserve utter contempt 
if I dared to suppose that true attachment and 
constancy were known only by woman. No, I 
believe you capable of everything great and good 
in your married lives. I believe you equal to 
every important exertion and to every domestic 
forbearance, so long as — if I may be allowed the 
expression — so long as you have an object. I 
mean, while the woman you love lives, and lives 
for you. All the privilege I claim for my own 
sex (it is not a very enviable one, you need not 
covet it) is that of loving longest when existence 
or when hope is gone.” 

She could not immediately have uttered another 
20 


308 


PERSUASION. 


sentence; her heart was too full, her breath too 
much oppressed. 

^^You are a good soul,’’ cried Captain Har- 
ville, putting his hand on her arm quite affection- 
ately. “ There is no quarrelling with you. And 
when I think of Benwick, my tongue is tied.” 

Their attention was called towards the others. 
Mrs. Croft was taking leave. 

“Here, Frederick, you and I part company, I 
believe,” said she. “I am going home, and you 
have an engagement with your friend. To-night 
we may have tlie pleasure of all meeting again, at 
your party,” turning to Anne. “We had your 
sister’s card yesterday, and I understood Freder- 
ick had a card too, though I did not see it, — and 
you are disengaged, Frederick, are you not, as 
well as ourselves?” 

Captain Wentworth was folding up a letter in 
great haste, and either could not or would not 
answer fully. 

“Yes,” said he, “very true; here we separate, 
but Harville and I shall soon be after you, — that 
is, Harville, if you are ready, I am in half a 
minute. I know you will not be sorry to be off. 
I shall be at your service in half a minute.” 

Mrs. Croft left them, and Captain Wentworth, 
having sealed his letter with great rapidity, was in- 
deed readjq and had even a hurried, agitated air, 
which showed impatience to be gone. Anne knew 
not how to understand it. She had the kindest 
“Good morning; God bless you!” from Captain 
Harville ; but from him not a word, nor a look ! 
He had passed out of the room without a look 1 


PERSUASION. 


307 


She had only time, however, to move closer to 
the table where he had been writing, when foot- 
steps were heard returning. The door opened; it 
was himself. He begged their pardon, but he had 
forgotten his gloves, and instantly crossing the 
room to the writing-table, and standing with his 
back towards Mrs. Musgrove, he drew out a letter 
from under the scattered paper, placed it before 
Anne with e3^es of glowing entreaty fixed on her 
for a moment, and hastily collecting his gloves, 
was again out of the room, almost before Mrs. 
Musgrove was aware of his being in it, — the 
work of an instant! 

The revolution which one instant had made in 
Anne was almost be^mnd expression. The let- 
ter, with a direction hardly legible, to Miss 

A. E was evidently the one which he had been 

folding so hastily. While supposed to be writing 
only to Captain Benwick, he had been also ad- 
dressing her! On the contents of that letter de- 
pended all which this world could do for her! 
Anything was possible, anything might be de- 
fied rather than suspense. Mrs. Musgrove had 
little arrangements of her own at her own table ; 
to their protection she must trust, and, sinking 
into the chair which he had occupied, succeeding 
to the very spot where he had leaned and written, 
her eyes devoured the following words: — 

I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to 
you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce 
my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that 
I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for- 


808 


PERSUASION. 


ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more 
your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and 
a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than 
woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved 
none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and re- 
sentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone 
have brought me to Bath. For you alone I think and 
plan. Have you not seen this ? Can you fail to have 
understood my wishes ? I had not waited even these 
ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you 
must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. 1 am 
every instant hearing something which overpowers me. 
You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of 
that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, 
too excellent creature ! You do us justice, indeed. You 
do believe that there is true attachment and constancy 
among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undevi- 
ating, in Y. W. 

I must go uncertain of my fate ; but I shall return 
hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, 
a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your 
father’s house this evening, or never. 

Such a letter was not to be soon recovered from. 
Half an hour’s solitude and reflection might have 
tranquillized her; but the ten minutes only, which 
now passed before she was interrupted, with all 
the restraints of her situation, could do noth- 
ing towards tranquillity. Every moment rather 
brought fresh agitation. It was an overpowering 
happiness; and before she was beyond the first 
stage of full sensation, Charles, Mary, and Henri- 
etta all came in. 

The absolute necessity of seeming like herself 
produced then an immediate struggle; but after a 


PERSUASION. 


309 


while she could do no more. She began not to 
understand a word they said, and was obliged to 
plead indisposition and excuse herself. They could 
then see that she looked very ill; were shocked 
and concerned, and would not stir without her 
for the world. This was dreadful. Would they 
only have gone away, and left her in the quiet 
possession of that room, it would have been her 
cure; but to have them all standing or waiting 
around her was distracting, and, in desperation, 
she said she would go home. 

By all means, my dear,” cried Mrs. Musgrove, 
‘^go home directly, and take care of yourself, that 
you may be fit for the evening. I wish Sarah was 
here to doctor you, but I am no doctor myself. 
Charles, ring, and order a chair. She must not 
walk.” 

But the chair would never do. Worse than all! 
To lose the possibility of speaking two words to 
Captain Wentworth in the course of her quiet, 
solitary progress up the town (and she felt almost 
certain of meeting him) could not be borne. The 
chair was earnestly protested against; and Mrs. 
Musgrove, who thought only of one sort of illness, 
having assured herself, with some anxiety, that 
there had been no fall in the case, — that Anne had 
not, at any time lately, slipped down, and got a 
blow on her head, — that she was perfectly convinced 
of having had no fall, could part with her cheer- 
fully, and depend on finding her better at night. 

Anxious to omit no possible precaution, Anne 
struggled, and said, — 

I am afraid, ma’am, that it is not perfectly un- 


310 


PERSUASION. 


derstood. Pray be so good as to mention to the 
other gentlemen that we hope to see your whole 
party this evening. I am afraid there has been 
some mistake; and I wish you particularly to as- 
sure Captain Harville and Captain Wentworth 
that we hope to see them both/’ 

^^Oh, my dear, it is quite understood, I give 
you my word. Captain Harville has no thought 
but of going.” 

^^Do you think so? But I am afraid; and I 
should be so very sorry. Will you promise me to 
mention it when you see them again? You will 
see them both again this morning, I dare say. 
Do promise me.” 

To be sure I will, if you wish it. Charles, if 
you see Captain Harville anywhere, remember to 
give Miss Anne’s message. But, indeed, my dear, 
you need not be uneasy. Captain Harville holds 
himself quite engaged. I’ll answer for it; and 
Captain Wentworth the same, I dare say.” 

Anne could do no more ; but her heart prophesied 
some mischance, to damp the perfection of her 
felicity. It could not be very lasting, however. 
Even if he did not come to Camden Place himself, 
it would be in her power to send an intelligible 
sentence by Captain Harville. 

Another momentary vexation occurred. Charles, 
in his real concern and good nature, would go 
home with her; there was no preventing him. 
This was almost cruel. . But she could not be long 
ungrateful, — he was sacrificing an engagement at 
a gunsmith’s, to be of use to her; and she set off 
with him, with no feeling but gratitude apparent. 


PERSUASION. 


311 


Tliey were in Union Street, when a quicker 
step behind, a something of familiar sound, gave 
her two moments’ preparation for the sight of 
Captain Wentworth. He joined them; but as if 
irresolute whether to join or to pass on, said noth- 
ing, — only looked. Anne could command herself 
enough to receive that look, and not repulsively. 
The cheeks which had been pale now glowed, and 
the movements which had hesitated were decided. 
He walked by her side. Presently, struck by a 
sudden thought, Charles said, — 

‘^Captain Wentworth, which way are you go- 
ing, — only to Gay Street, or farther up the town? ” 
hardly know,” replied Captain Wentworth, 
surprised. 

Are you going as high as Belmont? Are you 
going near Camden Place? Because, if you are, 
I shall have no scruple in asking you to take my 
place, and give Anne your arm to her father’s 
door. She is rather done for this morning, and 
must not go so far without help; and I ought to 
be at that fellow’s in the market-place. He pro- 
mised me the sight of a capital gun he is just go- 
ing to send off; said he w'ould keep it unpacked to 
the last possible moment, that I might see it; and 
if I do not turn back now, I have no chance. By 
his description, a good deal like the second-sized 
double-barrel of mine, which you shot with one 
day round Winthrop.” 

There could not be an objection. There could 
be onl}'' a most proper alacrity, a most obliging 
compliance for public view, and smiles reined in 
and spirits dancing in private rapture. In half a 


312 


PERSUASION. 


minute Charles was at the bottom of Union Street 
again, and the other two proceeding together; and 
soon words enough had passed between them to 
decide their direction towards the comparatively 
quiet and retired gravel walk, where the power of 
conversation would make the present hour a bless- 
ing indeed, and prepare it for all the immortality 
which the happiest recollections of their own future 
lives could bestow. There they exchanged again 
those feelings and those j^romises which had once 
before seemed to secure everything, but which had 
been followed by so many, many years of division 
and estrangement. There they returned again into 
the past, more exquisitely happy, perhaps, in their 
reunion than when it had been first projected; 
more tender, more tried, more fixed in a know- 
ledge of each other’s character, truth, and attach- 
ment; more equal to act, more justified in acting. 
And there, as they slowly paced the gradual ascent, 
heedless of every group around them, seeing neither 
sauntering politicians, bustling housekeepers, flirt- 
ing girls, nor nursery-maids and children, they 
could indulge in those retrospections and acknow- 
ledgments, and especially in those explanations of 
what had directly preceded the present moment, 
which were so poignant and so ceaseless in inter- 
est. All the little variations of the last week 
were gone through; and of yesterday and to-day 
there could scarcely be an end. 

She had not mistaken him. Jealousy of Mr. 
Elliot had been the retarding weight, the doubt, 
the torment. That had begun to operate in the 
very hour of first meeting her in Bath; that had 


rERSUASION. 


313 


returned, after a short suspension, to ruin the con- 
cert; and that had influenced him in everything 
he had said and done, or omitted to say and do, in 
the last four-and-twenty hours. It had been grad- 
ually yielding to the better hopes which her looks 
or words or actions occasionally encouraged; it 
had been vanquished at last by those sentiments 
and those tones which had reached him while she 
talked with Captain Harville, and under the irre- 
sistible governance of which he had seized a sheet 
of paper, and poured out his feelings. 

Of what he had then written nothing was to be 
retracted or qualifled. He persisted in having 
loved none but her. She had never been sup- 
planted. He never even believed himself to see 
her equal. Thus much, indeed, he was obliged to 
acknowledge, — that he had been constant uncon- 
sciously, nay, unintentionally; that he had meant 
to forget her, and believed it to be done. He had 
imagined himself indifferent, when he had only 
been angrj^; and he had been unjust to her merits, 
because he had been a sufferer from them. Her 
character was now fixed on his mind as perfection 
itself, maintaining the loveliest medium of fortitude 
and gentleness; but he was obliged to acknow- 
ledge that onlj^ at Uppercross had he learned to do 
her justice; and only at Lyme had he begun to 
understand himself. 

At Lyme he had received lessons of more than 
one sort. The passing admiration of Mr. Elliot 
had at least roused him, and the scenes on the 
Cobb and at Captain. Harville’s had fixed her 
superiority. 


314 


PERSUASION. 


In his preceding attempts to attach himself to 
Louisa Musgrove, the attempts of angry pride, he 
protested that he had forever felt it to be impossi- 
ble; tliat he had not cared, could not care, for 
Louisa; though, till that day, till the leisure for 
reflection which followed it, he had not under- 
stood the perfect excellence of the mind with 
which Louisa’s could so ill bear a comparison; or 
the perfect, unrivalled hold it possessed over liis 
own. There he had learned to distinguish between 
the steadiness of principle and the obstinacy of 
self-will, between the darings of heedlessness and 
the resolution of a collected mind. There he had 
seen everything to exalt in his estimation the 
woman he had lost; and there begun to deplore 
the pride, the folly, the madness of resentment, 
whicli had kept him from trying to regain her 
when thrown in his way. - 

From that period his penance had become severe. 
He had no sooner been free from the horror and 
remorse attending the first few days of Louisa’s 
accident, no sooner begun to feel himself alive 
again, than he had begun to feel liimself, though 
alive, not at liberty. 

“I found,” said he, ^Hhat I was considered by 
Harville an engaged man; that neither Harville 
nor his wife entertained a doubt of our mutual 
attachment. I was startled and shocked. To a 
degree, I could contradict this instantly; but 
when I began to reflect that others might have felt 
the same, — her own family, nay, perhaps herself, 
— I was no longer at my own disposal. I was 
hers in honor if she wished it. I had been un- 


PERSUASION. 


315 


guarded. I had not thought seriously on this 
subject before. I had not considered that my 
excessive intimacy must have its danger of ill con- 
sequence in many wa3^s; and that I had no right 
to be tr^dng whether I could attach myself to 
either of the girls, at the risk of raising even an 
unpleasant report, were there no other ill effects. 
I had been grossl}'' wrong, and must abide the 
consequences.’’ 

He found too late, in short, that he had en- 
tangled himself; and that precisely as he became 
fully satisfied of his not caring for Louisa at all, 
he must regard himself as bound to her, if her sen- 
timents for him were what the Harvilles siqiposed. 
It determined him to leave Lj’me, and await her 
complete recovery elsewhere. He would gladly 
weaken, bj'- any fair means, whatever feelings or 
speculations concerning him might exist; and he 
went, therefore, to his brother’s, meaning after a 
while to return to Kellynch, and act as circum- 
stances might require. 

‘‘1 was six weeks with Edward,” said he, ^^and 
saw him happy. I could have no other pleasure. 
I deserved none. He inquired after you very par- 
ticularly, asked even if you were personally al- 
tered, little suspecting that to my eye you could 
never alter.” 

Anne smiled, and let it pass. It was too pleas- 
ing a blunder for a reproach. It is something for 
a woman to be assured, in her eight-and-twentieth 
year, that she has not lost one charm of earlier 
youth; but the value of such homage was inex- 
pressibly increased to Anne, by comparing it with 


316 


PERSUASION. 


former words, and feeling it to be the result, not 
the cause, of a revival of his warm attachment. 

He had remained in Shropshire, lamenting the 
blindness of his own pride, and the blunders of his 
own calculations, till at once released from Louisa 
by the astonishing and felicitous intelligence of 
her engagement with Benwick. 

‘‘Here,’’ said he, “ended the worst of my state; 
for now I could at least put myself in the way of 
happiness, I could exert myself, I could do some- 
thing. But to be waiting so long in inaction, and 
waiting only for evil, had been dreadful. Within 
the first five minutes I said, ‘ I will be at Bath on 
Wednesday,’ and I was. Was it unpardonable to 
think it worth my while to come, and to arrive 
with some degree of hope? You were single. It 
was possible that you might retain the feelings of 
the past, as I did; and one encouragement hap- 
pened to be mine. I could never doubt that you 
would be loved and sought by others, but I knew 
to a certainty that you had refused one man, at 
least, of better pretensions than myself; and I 
could not help often saying, ‘Was this for me? ’ ” 

Their first meeting in Milsom Street afforded 
much to be said; but the concert still more. That 
evening seemed to be made up of exquisite mo- 
ments. The moment of her stepping forward in 
the octagon room to speak to him, the moment of 
Mr. Elliot’s appearing and tearing her away, and 
one or two subsequent moments, marked by re- 
turning hope or increasing despondence, were 
dwelt on with energy. 

“To see you,” cried he, “in the midst of those 


PERSUASION. 


317 


who could not he my well-wishers; to see your 
cousin close by you, conversing and smiling, and 
feel all the horrible eligibilities and proprieties of 
the match! To consider it as the certain wish 
of every being who could hope to influence you! 
Even if your own feelings were reluctant or indif- 
ferent, to consider what powerful supports would 
he his! Was it not enough to make the fool of 
me which I appeared? How could I look on with- 
out agony? Was not the very sight of the friend 
who sat behind you, — was not the recollection of 
what had been, the knowledge of her influence, 
the indelible, immovable impression of what per- 
suasion had once done, — was it not all against 
me?’’ 

^^You should have distinguished,” replied 
Anne, ‘^you should not have suspected me now; 
the case so different, and my age so different. If 
I was wrong in yielding to persuasion once, re- 
member that it was to persuasion exerted on the 
side of safety, not of risk. When I yielded, I 
thought it was to duty; hut no duty could he 
called in aid here. In marrying a man indifferent 
to me, all risk would have been incurred, and all 
duty violated.” 

‘^Perhaps I ought to have reasoned thus,” he 
replied; hut I could not. I could not derive 
benefit from the late knowledge I had acquired of 
your character. I could not bring it into play; it 
was overwhelmed, buried, lost in those earlier 
feelings w'hich I had been smarting under year 
after year. I could think of you onlj^ as one who 
had yielded, who had given me up, who had been 


318 


PERSUASION. 


influenced by any one rather than by me. I saw 
3 'oii with the very person who had guided you in 
that year of misery. I had no reason to believe 
her of less authority now. The force of habit was 
to be added.’’ 

“1 should have thought,” said Anne, ^^that my 
manner to yourself might have spared you much or 
all of this.” 

^‘No, no! your manner might be only the ease 
which your engagement to another man would 
give. I left you in this belief; and yet — I was 
determined to see you again. My spirits rallied 
with the morning, and I felt that I had still a 
motiv^e for remaining here.” 

At last Anne was at home again, and happier 
than any one in that house could have conceived. 
All the surprise and suspense, and every other 
painful part of the morning dissipated by this con- 
versation; she re-entered the house so happy as to 
be obliged to find an alloy in some momentary 
apprehensions of its being impossible to last. An 
interval of meditation, serious and grateful, ^vas 
the best corrective of everything dangerous in 
such high-wrought felicity; and she went to her 
room, and grew steadfast and fearless in the thank- 
fulness of her enjoyment. 

The evening came; the drawing-rooms were 
lighted up; the company assembled. It was but'a 
card-party ; it was but a mixture of those who had 
never met before, and those who met too often, — 
a common-place business, too numerous for inti- 
macy, too small for variety ; but Anne had never 
found an evening shorter. Glowing and lovely in 


PERSUASION. 


319 


sensibility and happiness, and more generally 
admired than she thought about or cared for, she 
had cheerful or forbearing feelings for every 
creature around her. Mr. Elliot was there; she 
avoided, but she could pity him. The Wallises, — 
she had amusement in understanding them. Lady 
Dalrymple and Miss Carteret, — they would soon be 
innoxious cousins to her. She cared not for Mrs. 
Clay, and had nothing to blush for in the public 
manners of her father and sister. With the Mus- 
groves, there was the happy chat of perfect ease; 
with Captain Harville, the kind-hearted inter- 
course of brother and sister; with Lady Russell, 
attempts at conversation, which a delicious con- 
sciousness cut short; with Admiral and Mrs. 
Croft, everything of peculiar cordiality and fervent 
interest, which the same consciousness sought to 
conceal; and with Captain Wentworth some 
moments of' communication continually occurring, 
and always the hope of more, and always the 
knowledge of his being there! 

It was in one of these short meetings, each ap- 
parently occupied in admiring a fine display of 
green-house plants, that she said, — 

I have been thinking over the past, and try- 
ing impartially to judge of the right and wrong, — 
I mean with regard to myself; and I must believe 
that I was right, much as I suffered from it, that 
I was perfectly right in being guided by the friend 
whom you will love better than you do now. To 
me, she was in the place of a parent. Do not 
mistake m.e, however. I am not saying that she 
did not err in her service. It was, perhaps, one 


320 


PERSUASION. 


of those cases in wliicli advice is good or bad only 
as the event decides ; and for myself, I certainly 
never should, in any circumstance of tolerable 
similarity, give such advice. But I mean that I 
^y£LS right in submitting to her, and that if I had 
done otherwise, I should have suffered more in 
continuing the engagement than I did even in giv- 
ing it up, because I should have suffered in my 
conscience. I have now, as far as such a senti- 
ment is allowable in human nature, nothing to 
reproach myself with; and if I mistake not, a 
strong sense of duty is no bad part of a woman^s 
portion.’’ 

He looked at her, looked at -Lady Bussell, and 
looking again at her, replied, as if in cool de- 
liberation, — 

^^Hot yet. But there are hopes of her being 
forgiven in time. I trust to being in charity with 
her soon. But I too have been thinking over the 
past; and a question has suggested itself, whether 
there may not have been one person more my 
enemy even than that lady? My own self. Tell 
me if, when I returned to England in the year 
eight, with a few thousand pounds, and was posted 
into the Laconia, if I had then written to you, 
would you have answered my letter? Would you, 
in short, have renewed the engagement then?” 

Would I! ” was all her answer; but the accent 
was decisive enough. 

^‘Good Godl ” he cried, ^^you would! It is 
not that I did not think of it, or desire it, as what 
could alone crown all my other success. But I was 
proud, too proud to ask again. I did not under- 


PERSUASION. 


321 


stand you. I shut my eyes, and would not under- 
stand you, or do you justice. This is a recollec- 
tion which ought to make me forgive ever}" one 
sooner than myself. Six years of separation and 
suffering might have been spared. It is a sort of 
pain, too, which is new to me. I have been used 
to the gratification of believing mj^self to earn 
every blessing that I enjoyed. I have valued my- 
self on honorable toils and just rewards. Like 
other great men under reverses,’’ he added, with a 
smile, I must endeavor to subdue my mind to 
my fortune. I must learn to brook being happier 
than I deserve.” 


21 


cT 


322 


PERSUASION. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

Who can be in doubt of what followed? When 
any two young people take it into their heads to 
marry, they are pretty sure by perseverance to 
carry their point, be they ever so poor, or ever so 
imprudent, or ever so little likely to be necessary 
to each other’s ultimate comfort. This may be 
bad morality to conclude with, but I believe it to 
be truth; and if such parties succeed, how should 
a Captain Wentworth and an Anne Elliot, with the 
advantage of maturity of mind, consciousness of 
right, and one independent fortune between them, 
fail of bearing down every opposition? They 
might, in fact, have borne down a great deal more 
than they met with, for there was little to distress 
them beyond the want of graciousness and warmth. 
Sir Walter made no objection, and Elizabeth did 
nothing worse than look cold and unconcerned. 
Captain Wentworth, with five-and-twenty thou- 
sand pounds, and as high in his profession as merit 
and activity could place him, was no longer no- 
body. He .was now esteemed quite worthy to 
address the daughter of a foolish, spendthrift bar- 
onet, who had not had principle or sense enough 
to maintain himself in the situation in 'which 
Providence had placed him, and who could give 
his , daughter at present but a small part of the 


PERSUASION. 323 

share of ten thousand pounds which must he hers 
hereafter. 

Sir Walter, indeed, though he had no affection 
for Anne, and no vanity flattered, to make him 
really happy on the occasion, was very far from 
thinking it a bad match for her. On the con- 
trary, when he saw more of Captain Wentworth, 
saw him repeatedl}'- by daylight, and eyed him 
well, he was very much struck by his personal 
claims, and felt that his superiority of appearance 
might be not unfairly balanced against her supe- 
riority of rank ; and all this, assisted by his well- 
sounding name, enabled Sir Walter, at last, to 
prepare his pen, with a very good grace, for the 
insertion of the marriage in the volume of honor. 

The only one among them whose opposition of 
feeling could excite any serious anxiety was Lady 
Russell. Anne knew that Lady Russell must be 
suffering some pain in understanding and re- 
linquishing Mr. Elliot, and be making some 
struggles to become truly acquainted with, and do 
justice to Captain Wentworth. This, however, 
was what Lady Russell had now to do. She must 
learn to feel that she had been mistaken with regard 
to bothj that she had been unfairly influenced by 
appearances in each; that because Captain Went- 
worth’s manners had not suited her own ideas, she 
had been too quick in suspecting them to indicate 
a character of dangerous impetuosity ; and that be- 
cause Mr. Elliot’s manners had precisely pleased 
her in their propriety and correctness, their general 
politeness and suavity, she had been too quick in 
receiving them as the certain result of the most 


324 


PERSUASION. 


correct opinions and well-regulated mind. There 
was nothing less for Lady Kussell to do than to ad- 
mit that she had been pretty completely wrong, and 
to take up a new set of opinions and of hopes. 

There is a quickness of perception in some, a 
nicety in the discernment of character, a natural 
penetration, in short, which no experience in 
others can equal} and Lady Lussell had been less 
gifted in this part of understanding than her 
young friend. But she was a very good woman; 
and if her second object was to be sensible and 
well-judging, her first was to see Anne happy. 
She loved Anne better than she loved her own 
abilities; and when the awkwardness of the be- 
ginning was over, found little hardship in at- 
taching herself as a mother to the man who was 
securing the happiness of her other child. 

Of all the family, Mary was probably the one 
most immediately gratified by the circumstance. 
It was creditable to have a sister married, and she 
might fiatter herself with having been greatly 
instrumental to the connection, by keeping Anne 
with her in the autumn; and as her own sister 
must be better than her husband’s sisters, it was 
very agreeable that Captain Wentworth should be 
a richer man than either Captain Benwick or 
Charles Hayter. She had something to sutler, 
perhaps, when they came into contact again, in 
seeing Anne restored to the rights of seniority, 
and the mistress of a very pretty landaulette ; but 
she had a future to look forward to, of powerful 
consolation. Anne had no Uppercross Hall be- 


PERSUASION. 


325 


fore her, no landed estate, no headship of a fam- 
ily; and if they could hut keep Captain Went- 
worth from being made a baronet, she would not 
change situations with Anne. 

It would be well for the eldest sister if she were 
equally satisfied with her situation, for a change 
is not very probable there. She had soon the mor- 
tification of seeing Mr. Elliot withdraw; and no 
one of proper condition has since presented him- 
self to raise even the unfounded hopes which sunk 
with him. 

The news of his cousin Anne’s engagement 
burst on Mr. Elliot most unexpectedly. It de- 
ranged his best plan of domestic happiness, his 
best hope of keeping Sir Walter single by the 
watchfulness which a son-in-law’s rights would 
have given. But, though discomfited and disap- 
pointed, he could still do something for his own 
interest and his own enjoyment. He soon quitted 
Bath; and on Mrs. Clay’s quitting it likewise soon 
afterwards, and being next heard of as established 
under his protection in London, it was evident 
how double a game he had been playing, and how 
determined he was to save himself from being cut 
out by one artful woman, at least. 

Mrs. Clay’s affections had overpowered her in- 
terest, and she had sacrificed, for the young man’s 
sake, the possibility of scheming longer for Sir 
Walter. She has abilities, however, as well as 
affections ; and it is now a doubtful point whether 
his cunning or hers may finally carry the day; 
whether, after preventing her from being the 


326 


PERSUASION. 


wife of Sir Walter, he may not be wheedled and 
caressed at ’‘last into making her the wife of Sir 
William. 

It cannot he doubted that Sir Walter and Eliza- 
beth were shocked and mortified by the loss of their 
companion, and the discovery of their deception in 
her. They had their great cousins, to be sure, to 
resort to for comfort ; hut they must long feel that 
to flatter and follow others, without being flat- 
tered and followed in turn, is hut a state of half 
enjoyment. 

Anne, satisfied at a very early period of Lady 
Kussell’s meaning to love Captain Wentworth as 
she ought, had no other alloy to the happiness of her 
prospects than what arose from the consciousness 
of having no relations to bestow on him which a 
man of sense could value. There she felt her own 
inferiority keenly. The disproportion in their 
fortune was nothing; it did not give her a mo- 
ment’s regret ; but to have no family to receive and 
estimate him properly, — nothing of respectability, 
of harmony, of good-will to offer in return for all 
the worth and all the prompt welcome which met 
her in his brothers and sisters, — was a source of as 
lively pain as her mind could well be sensible of, 
under circumstances of otherwise strong felicity. 
She had but two friends in the world to add to his 
list. Lady Russell and Mrs. Smith. To those, 
however, he was very well disposed to attach him- 
self. Lady Russell, in spite of all her former 
transgressions, he could now value from his heart. 
While he was not obliged to say that he believed 


PERSUASION. 


327 


her to have been right in originally dividing them, 
he was ready to say almost everything else in her 
favor; and as for Mrs. Smith, she had claims 
of various kinds to recommend her quickly and 
permanently. 

Her recent good offices by Anne had been enough 
in themselves; and their marriage, instead of de- 
priving her of one friend, secured her two. She 
was their earliest visitor in their settled life ; and 
Captain Wentworth, by putting her in the way of 
recovering her husband’s property in the West 
Indies, by writing for her, acting for her, and see- 
ing her through all the petty difficulties of the 
case, with the activitj^ and exertion of a fearless 
man and a determined friend, fully requited the 
services which she had rendered, or ever meant to 
render, to his wife. 

Mrs. Smith’s enjoyments were not spoiled by 
this improvement of income, with some improve- 
ment of health, and the acquisition of such friends 
to be often with, for her cheerfulness and mental 
alacrity did not fail her; and while these prime 
supplies of good remained, she might have bid de- 
fiance even to greater accessions of worldly pros- 
perity. She might have been absolutely rich and 
perfectly healthy, and yet be happy. Her spring 
of felicity was in the glow of her spirits, as her 
friend Anne’s was in the warmth of her heart. 
Anne was tenderness itself, and she had the full 
worth of it in Captain Wentworth’s aifection. His 
profession was all that could ever make her friends 
wish that tenderness less; the dread of a future 


328 


PERSUASION. 




war all that could dim her sunshine. She gloried 
in being a sailor’s wife, but she must pay the tax 
of quick alarm for belonging to that profession 
which is, if possible, more distinguished in its do- 
mestic virtues than in its national importance. 


n 







